Richard pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes falling closed as he sighed. “We don’t call itgetting even, but what your husband did was immoral and illegal.” His eyes opened, narrowing on Clem—who simply raised asardonic brow in response. “And I fully support any steps you take in the direction of leaving the marriage. As your lawyer, however, I’m legally bound to advise against pursuing your own form of justice.”
“Advice received, and ignored,” Clem answered for Eliana, before turning in her seat. “How did you save up so much, so fast?”
Eliana flashed Milo a grateful grin, which he returned with a wink. “From work,” Eliana said, proud of how far she had come in so little time. She had another fifteen hundred dollars sitting in an intermediary account, transferred in from the platform she’d been publishing her story on, but that felt too unpredictable to consider dependable income. Once it cleared, she planned to funnel it directly into a brand-new rainy day savings account to address at a later date.
“You know I would loan you the money you need to feel comfortable,” Clem whispered. “Just a loan. You could pay me back in your own time.”
Eliana shook her head. “It’s not just the money. It’s about not rushing through this. Making sure I do it right. And being certain that Abby and Zoey are supported through the process.” She exchanged a quick look with Milo and took a deep breath. “I’m planning to wait through the holidays. That should give me the time I need. Let the girls have one more normal Thanksgiving. One more Christmas. Then we can begin formalizing the split.”
“So fucking reasonable, it’s disgusting.” Clem huffed. “I need a palate cleanser. Quickly. Tell me more about the revenge plan before I puke.”
24
BAD GUY
She’s not only being willfully ignorant, but now she's taking legal advice for granted. Why even hire the lawyer?
Waiting it out is only going to give him time to make things worse. This decision makes her an active participant in her own betrayal.
I was all for her and Mitch to get together after the divorce. Now, I don’t want her anywhere near him. He’s way too good for an idiotic, shitty mom with no self-respect or dignity. The more I think about it, the more I’m over this story.
Eliana sighed, scrolling on. Her readers were always obsessing over her and Milo’s relationship. Writing about the rage room had only served to throw gas on that fire. But evenifMilo felt any sort of way towards Eliana, she was in no position to pursue romance while still navigating this clusterfuck of a situation. Especially not with somebody so wrapped up in the situation with her.
Taking responsibility for giving away your power means knowing you have to take it back, even when it means being the bad guy.
Eliana paused, staring at the line she’d just read. She read it again. Then once more.Even when it means being the bad guy.
The line resonated in Eliana’s mind like the lingering echo of a shot fired. It rang true, and yet Eliana’s mind rebelled against the message being delivered. All this work—the job, the schemes, the lawyer, the plots—all of it to take her own life back. And her readers thought she was being weak? Was it just because the story was perceived as fiction that they reacted so strongly? Or was she truly blind to the reality of her own decisions?
She wants her daughters to spend one last Christmas with a criminal, a cheater, a liar, a bad father who left them alone in their house to sleep with the neighbor? For God's sake, if Emma doesn't want a divorce, just say so.
Eliana felt heat gathering behind her eyes as she continued reading, her chest tightening as she saw how she was perceived, comment after comment after comment. They called her every name in the book. Weak. Stupid.Doormat. It was a word she’d tossed around breezily as a reader. But with the shoe on the other foot? She didn’t understand. She didn’tseeit.
Was she a doormat for waiting, for trying to play it smart? For not wanting to send a man to prison? A man she’d been with for more than half her life? The father of her children? How does one separate themselves fully from that dynamic, from that history, and look at it objectively?
Logically, Eliana knew that Jesse’s actions were criminal. Shewantedhim to suffer. To face the full weight of the consequences of his actions. But it wasn’t as simple as right and wrong.
To turn him in meant that not only would she become a single parent, but any semblance of security she could’ve found in co-parenting would be gone. No support. No sharing expenses. No emergency backup. No father figure in her daughters’ lives. He was a shitty husband, and maybe even a shitty father in some ways, but Eliana would never question how much he loved their girls. How devastating it would be to sever that connection.
I hope Emma will die . . . because she’s stupid.
Eliana laid the phone face down, unable to read further. She pressed the flats of her palms to her eyes to quell the burning. She sniffled, pressing harder. She wouldnotcry over the opinions of people she didn’t even know.
With a surge of anger, she picked the phone back up, navigating to the story link. Her thumb hovered over the tiny trashcan icon, just wanting to be done. Wanting it all to go away. She was so fucking tired. Tired of living the life she didn’t want. Pretending to be happy. Biding her time. Tired of being nothing more than a pawn to Jesse, a client to her lawyer, a character to her readers. She was aperson.
“You alright?” Milo’s voice was unexpected, making Eliana jump and drop the device back onto the picnic table, hidden behind the food truck where they’d stopped for lunch. Milo laid a tray laden with tacos on the table, his eyes taking her in. “What’s going on?”
Eliana sized him up, indecision warring within her asshe glanced around, noting that nobody else was within hearing distance.Fuck it, she thought. “I’m writing a book.”
Milo’s brows rose, earnest interest in his expression. “Yeah?”
“About my situation. With Jesse. As it happens.”
“Like an . . . autobiography?”
“No. It’s fiction.”
Milo squinted. “But it’s not?”
