Chapter 4 - The Broken Facade
The morning after Thanksgiving, the sprawling four-bedroom house felt like an abandoned tomb. Melissa had spent the night sleeping in the guest room, hoping David’s hot temper would cool down by sunrise.
She walked into the sunlit kitchen wearing a modest cardigan, attempting to look remorseful, humble, and cooperative. David was already sitting at the island, wearing his clinical suit and tie, sipping black coffee beside a thick manila folder.
"David, darling," Melissa began cautiously, taking a hesitant step toward him with her hands clasped. "I couldn't sleep all night. I wrote a three-page letter to your mother. I want to drive over to her house right now and apologize on my knees."
David didn't look up from his tablet. "Don't bother, Melissa. My mother isn't at her house."
Melissa frowned, panic creeping into the edges of her voice. "Where is she? Did she go to the hospital? Is she sick?"
"She is currently checking into a five-star wellness resort in Vermont for a two-week spa retreat," David said calmly, turning the page of a document. "I booked the presidential suite for her this morning. She’s going to get daily massages, hot spring baths, and gourmet meals cooked by five-star chefs who know how to treat a queen."
Melissa let out a forced, relieved chuckle. "That's wonderful, David! She deserves that! And when she comes back, we can throw a massive welcome-home party to make it right—"
"There will be no party, Melissa," David interrupted, sliding the manila folder across the granite counter until it bumped against her manicured fingers. "Open it."
Melissa’s hands trembled as she pulled out the thick stack of papers. The bold legal font at the top of the first page made the room spin: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
"Divorce?" Melissa shrieked, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Are you out of your mind?! We’ve been married for three years! You’re divorcing me over a holiday misunderstanding?!"
"This wasn't a misunderstanding, Melissa," David said, his voice terrifyingly measured. "This was a reveal. You showed me exactly who you are when you think nobody of consequence is watching."
"I made one mistake!" she wailed, clutching the papers against her chest. "One bad choice because of influencer stress! You can't throw our life away!"
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"It wasn't one mistake," David replied coldly. "Last Christmas, you told my mother not to bring her homemade cookies to your charity gala because they looked amateur. On her seventy-first birthday, you scheduled a photo shoot in Miami and forced me to cancel our dinner with her."
He stood up, towering over her with righteous indignation. "You didn't marry me, Melissa. You married a surgeon's income and a respectable title to fund your vanity. And your subscription just expired."
