In Tears, She Signed the Divorce at Christmas Dinner — Nobody Knew Her Father Was a Billionaire
The Demotion
Liam cleared his throat, avoiding Elena’s eyes.
“Right. Uh, for the New Year, Sarah and I will be heading to Aspen to oversee the lodge design. Just the two of us, strictly business, of course.”
Elena felt the air leave her lungs. Aspen—that was where Liam had proposed to Elena.
It was their place.
“And Elena?”
Mrs. Holloway asked.
“Will you be joining?”
Liam looked at his plate.
“No, Elena will be staying here to manage the estate while Mother is in Florida. Someone needs to watch the house.”
That was the breaking point. They weren’t just cheating; they were demoting her to a house sitter in her own marital home.
Elena stood up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.
“I’m feeling unwell,”
Elena said, her voice steady despite the hurricane inside her.
“Sit down, Elena,”
Liam hissed.
“Don’t make a scene.”
“Let her go, Liam.”
Beatrice waved a hand dismissively.
“She’s clearly overwhelmed by the caliber of the company. Go rest, dear, and take the back stairs—we don’t want you running into the caterers.”
Discovery in the Study
Elena turned and walked out. She didn’t cry, she didn’t run; she walked with the grace of a queen heading to the gallows.
She went straight to the library study, the one room she was forbidden to enter because it contained sensitive business documents. She didn’t care anymore; she needed to know how deep the betrayal went.
She opened Liam’s briefcase, which was sitting on the desk. She flipped through the Kensington project files—boring, boring—and then found a manila envelope at the back.
It wasn’t a business contract; it was a draft petition for dissolution of marriage. They had already drawn up the divorce papers.
She scanned the document; it was brutal. Beatrice’s lawyers had drafted it.
They were offering her a settlement of five thousand dollars and a used Honda Civic, citing irreconcilable differences and financial incompatibility. They planned to serve her on January 2nd, right after she had watched the house for them.
Elena stared at the paper. Five thousand dollars.
She laughed; it was a dark, dry sound. Five thousand dollars was what she used to spend on a handbag before she met Liam.
War Mode
She took a photo of the document, then she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she hadn’t called in three years. It rang once.
“Elena,”
a deep, gruff voice answered immediately.
“Is everything okay?”
“No, Daddy,”
Elena said, her voice breaking for the first time.
“You were right. You were right about everything.”
There was a silence on the other end, followed by the sound of a chair moving and movement. Arthur Vance didn’t offer “I told you so.”
He went straight to war mode.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the Sterling estate. They—they handed me divorce papers behind my back. They’re humiliating me, Dad. They treat me like a beggar.”
“Stay there,”
Arthur said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register.
“Do not leave. You survive tonight. Tomorrow is Christmas. I’m bringing the jet. And Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Call the family lawyer—the real one. Tell him to bring the acquisition team.”
“The acquisition team, Dad? What are you going to do?”
“I’m not just coming for dinner, sweetheart,”
Arthur Vance growled.
“I’m buying the whole damn table.”
The Final Morning
Elena hung up. She looked at the divorce papers in the briefcase, reached into the drawer, found a pen, and pulled the papers out.
She wasn’t going to wait for January 2nd. If they wanted a divorce, she would give it to them, but she would do it on her terms.
She walked back to her room, opened her closet, and pushed aside the teacher clothes. In the very back, inside a garment bag she had kept hidden for emergencies, was a dress.
It wasn’t simple, it wasn’t modest; it was a custom-made, blood-red Givenchy gown. She laid it on the bed.
Tomorrow, the mouse would die and the lioness would wake up. Christmas morning dawned with a deceptive brightness.
The sun reflected off the fresh snow, blindingly white, mirroring the artificial perfection of the Sterling household. Elena didn’t sleep.
She had spent the night packing—not her clothes, she was leaving those rags behind. She packed her documents, her passport, and the small velvet box containing the only thing of value she had brought into this marriage: a simple locket with a picture of her late mother.
The Gift Exchange
At 8:00 a.m., the chimes rang for breakfast. Elena descended the stairs.
She wasn’t wearing the red dress yet; that was for the finale. Instead, she wore a sharp black turtleneck and tailored trousers she had bought years ago in Milan.
It was severe, elegant, and entirely unlike the frumpy cardigans Liam was used to. In the living room, the scene was nauseatingly domestic.
A massive spruce tree touched the vaulted ceiling, buried under a mountain of gold and silver wrapped gifts. Beatrice sat in her high-backed velvet chair.
Sarah was perched on the arm of the sofa next to Liam, and Liam looked hungover.
“Oh, look who decided to join the living,”
Beatrice sneered as Elena entered.
“We thought you might sleep through the gift exchange, though I suppose you didn’t have much to contribute to the pile, did you?”
Elena walked to a single armchair in the corner, sitting with a posture so straight it looked painful.
“I’m here, Beatrice.”
“Well, let’s get on with it,”
Liam grumbled, rubbing his temples.
“Sarah, you open yours first.”
Sarah squealed with delight as Liam handed her a small box from Tiffany’s. She opened it to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet.
“Oh, Liam, it’s stunning!”
She threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, darling.”
Elena watched, her face a mask of ice. That bracelet cost at least fifteen thousand dollars.
Last week, Liam had told Elena they couldn’t afford to fix the heating in the guest bedroom.
“And for you, Mother,”
Liam said, handing Beatrice a heavy box. It was a rare first edition of a classic novel Beatrice pretended to like. She beamed.
The Severance Package
Then the room went quiet. There was one box left under the tree—a small, haphazardly wrapped package for Elena.
“Go on, dear, open it,”
Beatrice said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.
“Liam and I picked it out together.”
Liam looked away, studying the pattern on the rug. He knew what was in the box.
Elena stood up and took the package. It felt light. She tore the paper.
Inside was a box for a SlimFast 30-day weight loss kit and a gift certificate for a local employment agency. The silence in the room was deafening.
Sarah covered her mouth to hide a giggle. Beatrice watched Elena with the intensity of a hawk, waiting for the tears, waiting for the humiliation.
“We thought it would help you get back on your feet,”
Beatrice said innocently.
“You know, since you’ll need to find a more suitable career soon, and perhaps look a bit sharper for interviews.”
Elena looked at the diet pills. She looked at the job agency voucher.
Three years of marriage—three years of cleaning their house, cooking their meals, nursing Beatrice when she had the flu, supporting Liam when his first firm went bankrupt—and this was her severance package. Elena didn’t cry, she didn’t scream; she smiled.
It was a cold, terrifying smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thank you, Beatrice,”
Elena said softly.
“This is very enlightening. It’s exactly what I needed to make my decision.”
“Decision?”
Liam asked, looking up nervously.
“What decision?”
“You’ll find out at dinner,”
Elena said.
“I have a gift for you too, Liam. But it’s not under the tree; it’s being delivered.”
“Delivered?”
Beatrice scoffed.
“With what money? Did you pawn the silverware?”
“No,”
Elena said, turning to walk away.
“I just dipped into my savings. Don’t worry, it didn’t cost much. Freedom is surprisingly cheap.”
