Husband Played Poor, Bought Lover A Flat: I’ll Sell Him For Parts Novel – “Let’s get a fake divorce.” Jason Miller put his fork down, his tone as casual as if he were talking about what to have for dinner tomorrow. “That way we can dodge the extra taxes when we buy a second place.” My hand froze around my fork. In eight years of marriage, it was the first time he had said the word divorce. “Once we get the divorce papers, we’ll buy the new condo and then get remarried,” he went on with an easy smile. “It’s just a process, that’s all.” I looked straight at him. “And the divorce agreement?” He pulled two sheets of paper out of his briefcase and slid them across the table to me.
I lowered my eyes and glanced over them. The condo would be his. The car would be his. The savings, allegedly split fifty–fifty. “This is what you call a fake divorce?” “It’s only on paper,” he said. “Em, don’t you trust me?” With nothing more to say, I picked up the pen and signed my name. What he did not know was that yesterday I had already checked the online property records for Seattle. Under his name, there was already a condo. The registration date was three months ago.
And in the “co-owner” field, the name listed there was not mine. *** Jason tucked the signed agreement away, the smile still lingering on his face. “We’ll go file it this Saturday. I’m not working overtime that day anyway.” I nodded. “Okay.” He seemed surprised that I agreed so quickly and stared at me for a moment. “So… that’s it? It’s settled?” “Didn’t you say it was just a formality?” He laughed and reached out, trying to pat my shoulder.
But I turned my body and avoided his hand. “I’ll go do the dishes.” In the kitchen, the sound of running water filled the silence. I pulled out my phone and opened the screenshot of the property records page. Property address: Riverside Gardens, Building 7, Unit 1802. Registration date: September 15, 2024. Owner: Jason Miller. Co-owner: Lauren White. Lauren. I had seen that name in Jason’s phone before. Back then, the contact was saved as “Laure –Engineering,” and I had assumed she was just a coworker.
For eight years, I put twelve thousand into our household account every month. He said his paycheck was low, that the mortgage and car payments were crushing him. I believed him. When my parents got sick and I asked to borrow twenty thousand for their treatment, he said money was tight and told me to take a cash advance on my credit card. I believed that too. In eight years of marriage, I had managed to save five hundred and thirty thousand. It was not that he did not know. It was that he assumed the money would be his sooner or later. “Em!” Jason’s voice floated in from the living room. “Saturday morning at nine.
I’ll meet you in front of the County Court.” I shut off the faucet. “Okay.” Saturday was four days away. I unlocked my phone and texted my best friend from college, Samantha Reed. Emily: [Sam, are you still working at the property records office?] Samantha: [Yeah, I’m still there. What’s up?] Emily: [I need you to look someone up for me.] Samantha: [Who?] I typed one word. Emily: [Jason.] That night, Jason slept like a rock beside me, while I lay on my back, eyes open until dawn. At three in the morning, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up, and I caught the first few words of the notification preview—[Honey, tomorrow…] Sender: Lauren–Engineering. I did not move. I kept my breathing slow and even, pretending to be asleep.
Jason rolled over and went right on snoring. I closed my eyes, letting my lashes stay perfectly still. My heart felt oddly calm, almost numb. Good. Very good.