Brandon began wearing tailored suits and polished Italian shoes to meet with suppliers and investors across the city. I, too, became busier, but my role was very different. I was still that woman sitting in the warehouse, wearing a simple shirt, checking invoices, managing inventory, and checking every number in the ledgers until late at night.
At the time, I believed I was sacrificing my comfort for the well-being of our family.
This belief lasted until one afternoon, when everything changed. I had just finished a meeting with a salesman near one of Phoenix's most luxurious hotels when I saw Brandon emerge from the glass doors with his arm around a young woman's waist.
She looked confident and beautiful, and the bag she carried over her shoulder was the Chanel that Brandon had bought me years before, but had never dared to wear for fear of ruining it.
In that moment, my heart didn't break because I realized I was losing my husband. It broke because I suddenly realized something much worse. For ten years, the person I'd treated the worst had never been Brandon. The person I'd neglected and ignored the most had always been myself.
This knowledge was the reason why, on the day of the divorce, I decided to show up so as to leave Brandon's entire family speechless. However, I never imagined that what I would do next in the courtroom would leave everyone speechless.
The courtroom was packed when the hearing began. The lawyers sat up front, the judge examined the documents on the witness stand, and Brandon's parents and younger sister took their seats behind him. Several employees from our firm were also present, along with a few curious onlookers waiting for their cases.
Everyone in the room seemed to be watching me as I sat across from Brandon. I noticed his eyes wandering over my black dress and the diamond necklace resting on my collarbone.
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