Divorce and Revenge: Marrying My Ex's Enemy

Stephanie‘s POV

“She’s back. Sign the divorce papers.” His voice is flat, detached, like this is just another line item on his to-do list, not the disintegration of our life together.

The air is sucked from the room. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears that for a moment, I can’t process what he’s just said. Then the words sink in, heavy and sharp, hollowing me out until I feel like a shell of myself.

Four years ago, we got drunk and slept together for the first time. It was amazing, and I thought I had won him over. Back then, I was just a designer at his company, secretly in love with my boss.  

Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant and accepted Vince’s proposal. So what if Vince had feelings for someone else? His ex-girlfriend Darci was already engaged, and I was certain I could win his heart eventually.  

But everything that happened today proved just how wrong I was.

My gaze drops to the papers on the table. The bold, official font feels obscene, mocking me with its finality.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice coming out small and trembling, a shadow of the woman I used to be. “We’ve been married for four years, Vince. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

His stare is cold enough to freeze my blood. “It was never supposed to mean anything, Stephanie,” he says, his words like a slap to the face. “You always knew that. You knew I loved Darci. You were just… convenient.”

Convenient. The word echoes in my mind, sharp and cruel, cutting into the fragile remnants of my hope. I feel my chest tighten, a knot forming that makes it hard to breathe.

Darci.

Her name has haunted me since the beginning, like a ghost that refused to leave, no matter how much I tried to exorcise it.

“She’s married,” I remind him, my voice faltering as I grasp for something, anything, to hold on to. “She moved on years ago. Why can’t you?”

Vince lets out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair like he finds me ridiculous. “She didn’t move on. She was forced into that engagement. Now that she’s back, she’s free—free to be with me.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, stealing what little breath I have left. My vision blurs for a moment, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. “We’re married,” I say, hating the desperation in my tone. “We’ve been building a life together. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Building a life?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “The only thing you’ve been building is a lie. You trapped me, Stephanie. You used drugs to manipulate me into this marriage. It was never real.”

His accusations blindside me, the venom in his voice leaving me reeling. “What are you talking about?” I whisper, my words barely audible. “I didn’t manipulate you—”

“Don’t play innocent,” he snaps, his voice rising. “You knew exactly what you were doing. The pregnancy—it was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? You made sure I had no choice but to marry you.”

The room spins as his words settle in, and I feel like the ground beneath me is crumbling. “That’s not true,” I protest, shaking my head. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Vince’s voice cuts through my denial, sharp and unforgiving. “You disgust me. You latched onto me with a child that didn’t even survive. And now you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

My breath catches in my throat, the mention of our baby slicing through me like a knife. Instinctively, my hand moves to my stomach, to the place where I once carried a life.

The pain of that loss crashes over me, fresh and raw, mingling with the bitterness of his words.

“Don’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Don’t talk about the baby like that.”

“Why not?” he spits, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “I didn’t want it then, and even if it had survived, I wouldn’t want it now.”

His words are cruel, calculated to wound, and they succeed.

“How can you say that?” I demand, my voice trembling with fury. “How can you be so heartless?”

“Heartless?” Vince’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “You’re the one who started this, Stephanie.  Now it’s over. Sign the papers, and I’ll pay you enough to walk away and never look back.”

His detachment is the final straw. The years of sacrifice, of trying to love him through his indifference, flash before my eyes.

Four years of building a life together, only for him to reduce it to a transaction. My hands tremble as I reach for the pen, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on me.

“I don’t want your damn money.”

“Fine, Stephanie.” His voice is cold, commanding. “Sign it.”

Tears blur my vision as I lower the pen to the page. My hand shakes so violently that I have to steady it with my other one. Memories flood my mind—the quiet nights when I thought we were happy, the fleeting moments when I thought I saw a spark of something real in his eyes. All of it, an illusion.

I look down at the paper again. At Vince’s signature. The space where mine will go.

“You know what?” I say, straightening my spine. “You don’t get to decide my worth anymore. I’m done letting you. You want this divorce so badly? Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

I deserve better than this. Don’t I?

The silence answers me louder than words ever could.

I force myself to hold back the tears burning at the edges of my vision. If I cry now, he wins.

I steel my spine and pick up the pen. My grip is tight, unyielding. 

I sign with a trembling hand.