Chapter 3

The comment section was already blowing up.

All the church friends who hadn't made the trip were practically green with envy.

"Martha, you are so blessed! Your son's wife is an angel!"

"That gold leaf mask looks insanely expensive! How much is it?"

"Take us with you next time! Let us get a taste of the good life too!"

Martha replied with a blanket response: "It's totally free! My son's wife owns the place, we can do whatever we want!"

Staring at the word "free," my temples throbbed violently.

Free.

She really made it sound so effortless.

I scrolled down the comments and spotted Ethan's reply.

He had commented: "Martha, you and the ladies enjoy yourselves! Once you're done, dinner is on me. We're going to that new high-end seafood steakhouse downtown!"

Martha replied in a flash: "Sounds wonderful! What a good, devoted son!"

Watching this little mother-son show on social media, the corner of my mouth twitched.

A high-end seafood steakhouse?

That place had a minimum spend of three thousand dollars per table. For nine people, they would need at least two private dining rooms.

Another massive expense.

And I knew Ethan better than anyone. Whenever he bragged about treating people, the bill always ended up on my credit card.

He did this every single time.

All talk, all swagger, but completely empty pockets.

I couldn't wait to see how he planned to cover the hundred-thousand-dollar bill today.

I opened my chat with Ethan. Right on cue, another text arrived from him.

"Go ahead and book a private room at the Grand Harbor Seafood Steakhouse for six tonight. Get the biggest private room they have, two tables."

"We need to make an impression. Don't let Martha lose face in front of her friends."

I stared at the screen, typed out a sentence, and hit send:

"I'm not booking anything. From now on, I'm completely done dealing with your family's drama."

The moment it sent, I slammed my phone face down on the desk.

Three seconds later, the phone began to vibrate incessantly as notifications flooded the screen.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Claire, did you take crazy pills today or what?"

"It's not easy for Martha to show off in front of her friends. Can't you just play along for once?"

"How much could a dinner reservation possibly cost? Do you have to make such a huge deal out of this?"

I didn't reply to a single word.

Then came a FaceTime voice call.

"Claire, what on earth is your problem right now?"

My voice was dead calm.

"I told you. I'm done dealing with your family's nonsense."

"What do you mean, my family's nonsense? You're my wife! Martha is your mother too!"

"Martha brought eight people to get a hundred-thousand-dollar spa treatment without my knowledge. You seriously think I'm supposed to clean up her mess?"

Silence hung over the line for two seconds.

"Claire!"

"Ethan, you make sixty-five hundred a month. Martha gets a two-thousand-dollar pension. Combined, the two of you don't even make enough to pay today's bill!"

"What do you actually want from me?!"

"I don't want anything from you. I just refuse to be your personal ATM anymore."

He inhaled sharply, his voice turning icy cold.

"Are you trying to divorce me?"

He had pulled this card before. Every time we argued, he used divorce as an ultimate threat to force me into line.

In the past, I would have gone silent, compromised, and smoothed things over to give him a way out.

But today was different.

Today, my mind was clearer than it had ever been.

"Yes."

Crisp, clean, and final.

"Fine! We'll file the paperwork tomorrow morning!"

With a sharp click, he hung up.

Gripping the phone, I sat frozen for a moment.

Then, I let out a long, slow breath.

To be completely honest, the thought of divorce had been brewing in my mind for a very long time.

I had been hesitating, constantly making up excuses not to pull the trigger.

Well, now I didn't have to hesitate anymore.

I put my phone away and told Chloe I was heading next door to check on things.

Before I even reached the entrance of the spa next door, the shouting was already spilling out onto the sidewalk.

The commotion was deafening, with Martha's shrill voice cutting through the rest.

"What kind of garbage scam are you running here?! We agreed on fifty dollars, and now you're demanding a hundred thousand?!"

"Get your manager out here right now! You're just a receptionist, you don't call the shots!"

"My son's wife owns this entire place! Do you really think I'm afraid of you?!"

Her eight friends joined in, squawking in agreement, turning the lobby into total chaos.

The young receptionist's voice was practically trembling.

"Ma'am, our full anti-aging package is twelve thousand dollars per person. For nine people, the total is one hundred and eight thousand dollars! We have never, ever offered a fifty-dollar rate!"

"You're full of crap! My son's wife told me with her own mouth that it's fifty bucks!"

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

All nine women were swarming the reception counter, surrounding the poor girl whose face had gone completely pale.

The moment Martha saw me, her eyes lit up. She instantly pointed an accusing finger at the receptionist.

"Claire, you got here just in time! What is wrong with your employee?! Didn't you just tell me it was fifty dollars a person for the full package? Now she's demanding over a hundred grand! Why are you even keeping someone like this on payroll? Fire her right now!"

I stood by the doorway, crossing my arms over my chest.

Looking at Martha's outraged face, and then glancing at the expectant, smug expressions on her eight friends, I genuinely couldn't hold back a laugh.

Seeing me chuckle, Martha grew even more frantic.

"What are you laughing at?! Handle your staff!"

I stopped smiling and slowly walked over.

"Martha, when did I ever say this was my clinic?"