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No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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"Hey, honey," Carol called as she beat eggs in a shallow pan.

"Yeah, Mom," Lance mumbled weakly as he dragged his feet over to his busy mother in the kitchen. She had seen him passing by and was glad at the good timing.

"Are you free? I need you to take a DVD to someone." She was bustling all around the kitchen as she spoke.

"Why not just stream it over?", he grumbled.

"It's a DVD, sweety, not a porn video."

He blushed as he recalled when his mother had caught him streaming a leaked porn video with his friend, Dylan.

"By the way," she continued, now sure of success in breaking down his resistance. "It's just videos of a programme I launched some time ago, so it's too important to be trusted with your software thing."

"Come on, Mom," he sighed and rolled his eyes, but she didn't see him.

"Thanks dear, I'm grateful."

"So who's the person?"

"Oh it's Cara. She couldn't come for the programme because of Lisa's illness. Until that kid's hale and hearty, Cara's not leaving home. Remember how I excused myself from everything when Anna fell so sick?"

Lance remembered. It was just a few months ago when his young cousin fell gravely ill and had no other close relative nearby to look after her other than Carol, her parents having died years ago. But her recovery, like everything else about her, was swift. Nowadays, the girl was spending some time with her mother's family.

"But you can still stream it; it's easier," Lance mumbled.

"Of course, dear. You and Dylan can. But me and Cara, we are old school. We prefer the good ol' slot and play. And just in case she's forgotten, what she's looking for is the second and third videos. Now, if you're done with your complaints and reservations, the DVD is just beside the TV. Thank you."

With a smile, Lance went back to the sitting room. He wondered how his mother managed to anticipate his thoughts. Not that she was a psychologist, but she certainly had a way of reading his next move and then giving her response in a manner that always made him forget his 'complaints and reservations'.

*****

Parking in the driveway, Lance made his way on foot to Cara's house. It was an average-sized building in a very neat and quiet high-class neighborhood. It was no secret that Cara was a rich woman. It wasn't as a result of the large settlement from her recent divorce, but rather an inheritance from her late grandfather who was a successful business mogul during his lifetime. The divorce itself got her the house and an unknown amount of money along with custody of Lisa, her only child with her ex-husband. All this was common gossip. Lance ought to know a little more since Cara was his mother's friend, but he was never one to care for 'women talk', though he had quite a secret crush on Cara.

He walked to the front door and knocked quite confidently, but that confidence fell apart as the door was suddenly opened before he could drop his hand. A tired-looking Cara stood in the doorway.

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