Chapter 7 - Kristen Jumps Ship
By Thursday afternoon, the humid Texas heat had turned the motel room into a sweltering oven. The cheap air conditioning unit had stopped working completely, sputtering out a thin stream of warm, moldy air.
Trevor sat slumped on the floor against the wall, staring at a stack of unpaid bills and eviction notices he had fished out of his laptop bag. His designer suit pants were ripped at the knee, and his face was covered in four days of ragged, unkempt stubble.
The door to the tiny bathroom opened, and Kristen stepped out.
She wasn't wearing her usual silk lounge robes or messy-bun loungewear. She was dressed in her finest designer trench coat, her oversized dark sunglasses concealing her eyes, and her four luxury suitcases were neatly packed and lined up by the exit door. In her manicured hand, she held a set of keys and an open plane ticket folder.
Trevor looked up in utter confusion. ""Kristen? What are you doing? Where did you get that suitcase packed?""
""I called my father, Trevor,"" she said, her voice completely devoid of warmth, emotion, or pity. ""He wired five thousand dollars to my private personal account and booked me a first-class seat on the five o'clock flight back home to Atlanta.""
Trevor scrambled up from the floor, his eyes widening in pure panic. ""Wait... what about us? What about our fight? We’re a team, Kristen! You’re my wife! We promised to stand by each other through thick and thin!""
Kristen let out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut deeper than any physical blade.
""A team?"" she sneered, looking down at him with undisguised disgust. ""I married a rising commercial real estate tycoon who promised me private jets, high-society galas, and a multi-million-dollar River Oaks estate! I did not sign up to sleep on bedbug-infested mattresses with a broke, jobless criminal who is about to be arrested for beating his own mother!""
""You encouraged me!"" Trevor yelled, grabbing her arm in desperate protest. ""Last night at the dinner table, you were whispering in my ear that she was suffocating us! You smiled while I hit her! You told me she needed to be taught a lesson so she would sign the master deed over to us! You were right there with me!""
Kristen violently snatched her arm out of his grasp, stepping back toward the open doorway where a yellow airport taxi sat idling with its hazard lights flashing.
""I didn't hit anyone, Trevor,"" she whispered with venomous coldness. ""You did. You are an impulsive, violent, entitled little boy who threw away a fortune because you couldn't control your disgusting temper. My father’s family lawyers are already drawing up the uncontested divorce papers. Don't bother calling my phone—I’ve already changed my number.""
She signaled the taxi driver, who quickly loaded her luxury luggage into the trunk.
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""Kristen, please!"" Trevor begged, stumbling out onto the greasy motel walkway in his socks, completely oblivious to the other motel residents staring at him from their doorways. ""Don't leave me here! I have zero dollars left! I have nowhere to go!""
Kristen didn't look back once. She slid into the back seat of the cab, pulled down her designer sunglasses, and closed the door. The taxi sped away into the afternoon traffic, leaving Trevor standing alone in the rain, screaming her name into the empty air until his vocal cords tore.
