CHAPTER THREE #2
Everything. The house. The cars. The investment accounts. The boat I'd bought last summer. All of it was technically hers, purchased with her family's money, registered in her name.
I was going to lose everything.
"You can't take everything—"
"I can. I will. The house is mine. The cars are mine. The investment accounts are mine. Even that ridiculous boat you bought is registered in my name." Her smile was cruel. "You'll be lucky if you can afford a studio apartment when I'm done with you."
"Karrie—"
"And the children? Full custody. You'll get supervised visitation if you're lucky. I have evidence of your infidelity, your poor judgment, your willingness to prioritize your dick over your family. No judge in the world will side with you."
My legs gave out. I sank into a chair, my head in my hands.
She was taking my children. My home. My money. My career. Everything.
"You're destroying my life," I whispered.
"No, Barthalomew. You destroyed your life the moment you decided to fuck Jennifer Drewble.
" She turned toward the door. "Oh, and one more thing.
That video your coworker is recording through the glass?
The one that's probably already uploading to social media?
That's going to make sure everyone knows exactly what you did.
Your friends. Your family. Every future employer who Googles your name. "
She walked out.
Summit called security.
And I sat there, alone in the conference room, understanding that I'd just lost everything that mattered in less than ten minutes.
By the time security escorted me out, the video was already online.
I sat in my car in the parking lot—the car that was registered in Karrie's name, that I'd be losing in the divorce—and watched my phone explode with notifications.
The video had been posted twenty minutes ago. It already had fifty thousand views.
I watched myself lunge at Karrie. Watched Summit stop me with a single word. Watched my wife systematically destroy me in front of my colleagues and my boss.
The comments were brutal:
"He really thought he was going to get away with it lmaooo"
"The way his boss fired him on the spot I'm SCREAMING"
"She's taking EVERYTHING good for her"
"Imagine being this stupid"
"His life is OVER"
Fifty thousand views became a hundred thousand. Then two hundred thousand.
My phone rang. My mother.
I answered with shaking hands. "Mom, I can’t talk —"
"You're going to talk to me right now, Barthalomew James Hillson.
" She used the voice she used when I was a child and had done something unforgivable.
"I just watched a video of you getting fired for cheating on your wife.
So you're going to explain to me how the hell you thought this was acceptable. "
Silence on the other end. Then: "You saw it?"
"The whole world saw it, Bart. It has over a million views.
How could you do this? How could you betray Karrie like this?
She's home with your babies, and you're out there with some girl from work?
You cheated on your wife? On Karrie? While she was home with your babies?
" Her voice cracked. "I read the messages.
" Her voice cracked. "Karrie forwarded them to me.
Every disgusting thing you said about her, about your own wife.
Comparing her to that woman. Saying she was better than Karrie.
How dare you? How could you do this? How could you be so stupid and selfish and cruel? "
"It wasn't like that—"
"Then what was it like?" She demanded. "Explain it to me.
Make me understand how my son—the boy I raised to respect women, to honor his commitments—could do something so cruel and stupid.
I raised you better than this. Your father and I taught you to be a good man, to honor your commitments, to take care of your family.
" She was crying now. "And you threw it all away for some girl at work? "
"I made a mistake—"
"A mistake is forgetting to take out the trash.
A mistake is being late to dinner. Having an affair for months isn't a mistake, Barthalomew.
It's a choice. A series of choices. And you made every single one of them.
You had an affair for months! You humiliated your wife in public! You destroyed your family!"
"Mom, please—"
I was crying now, breathing heavy. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough. Your father and I raised you better than this. We taught you about loyalty, about family, about being a good man. And you threw it all away for what? Some excitement? Some ego boost?"
"I don't know why I did it," I whispered. "I just... I felt like Karrie didn't see me anymore. Like I didn't matter."
"So instead of talking to your wife, instead of working on your marriage, you decided to stick your dick in your assistant?" She never cursed, but this situation warranted it. "That's not a man, Bart. That's a coward."
"What do you want me to say?" I sighed.
"I want you to take responsibility. I want you to understand that you've destroyed your family.
Those babies—Marlow and Danika—they're going to grow up without their father in their lives because you couldn't keep it in your pants.
" She was crying, I could tell. "And Karrie.
That beautiful, intelligent woman who loved you, who built a life with you, who gave you children.
You humiliated her. Betrayed her. And for what? "
"I know I fucked up—" I pleaded.
"You did more than fuck up. You destroyed everything." I heard her voice catch "And I'm not going to stand by you on this, Bart. I can't."
The silence on the other end was deafening.
"What?" My voice was small.
"I'm on Karrie's side. I'm going to help her with the divorce.” She said. “I'm going to support her custody case. Those are my grandchildren, and they deserve better than a father who would do this to their mother. You're my son, but what you did is unforgivable. "
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. My own mother was turning against me.
"Mom, you can't—"
"I can and I will." Her voice was firm. "You're my son, and I love you. But what you did is unforgivable." Her voice hardened. "And until you figure out how to be a decent human being, don't call me."
She hung up before I could respond.
I sat in the car, staring at my phone, and felt the full weight of what I'd done crash down on me.
I couldn't go home. The house was Karrie's. She'd probably already changed the locks.
I drove to a motel—the cheapest one I could find, because I had maybe three thousand dollars in my personal checking account and no idea how I was going to survive.
The room smelled like cigarettes and despair. I sat on the stained bedspread and opened my laptop.
The video had a million views.
One million people had watched me get destroyed by my wife.
I searched my name. The results made me want to vomit.
"Cheating Husband Gets Destroyed by Wife in Viral Office Confrontation"
"Man Loses Job, Wife, and Everything After Affair Goes Public"
"This is What Happens When You Cheat: Viral Video Shows Ultimate Revenge"
My face was everywhere. My name was everywhere. Every article included screenshots of the texts I'd sent Jennifer, the explicit messages that proved exactly what kind of man I was.
I tried to log into my work email. Access denied.
I tried to check my benefits portal. Account suspended.