Ten Strikes and You're Out

I kept my voice calm, but a sharp pain tore through my chest, as if something inside me had been ripped apart. It was almost suffocating.

Tracie let out a mocking snort. She rummaged through her drawer for a set of divorce papers prepared in advance and signed her name without hesitation.

"Aren't you tired of playing the separation card yet? Fine, I'll play along, but you'd better not regret this. I won't soften up, no matter how much you beg later."

She kept her chin high, absolutely certain that I'd never go through with it. She believed that I was fully within her grasp and convinced that, for the sake of our years together and my financial situation, I'd never leave.

I lowered my gaze, took the pen, and signed my name.

"I won't regret this, Tracie Conner."

Deep down, I swore that I was never coming back.

With that, I turned and walked out of our bridal suite.

It was starting to drizzle outside, soaking through my tuxedo jacket.

People on the streets pointed and whispered, while Elton took a photo of me and posted it to his social media to mock me. The caption read. "Look at him slinking away like a stray dog."

Tracie was the first to like it and wrote a comment. "He's just a rabid dog who might bite anytime. Stay away from him. Rabid dogs are dangerous."

People in our circle quickly followed suit. When they learned that I'd been kicked out of my own home on my wedding day, they piled on with comments, laughing at my humiliation and misery.

Only my best friend, Jason Smith, texted me, fuming with rage. "What the hell is wrong with her? You guys just got married, and she's already moving that piece of trash into the house and posting photos to humiliate you. I'm going to call her right now and ask her what—"

Halfway through his rant, he suddenly yelled and sent a screenshot.

"This is straight-up disrespect. She's telling everyone that you're not good enough, even though that villa was built for your marriage, and you're the one who designed it!

"This is insane. How could she use a gift meant for you to suck up to someone else? I can't let this slide."

I was sitting in a coffee shop and tapped on the photo. Tracie and Elton were posing in front of the gorgeous villa I'd poured my heart and soul into.

The caption read, "You deserve the best things in this world, especially our little home."

Right there on the gate, a polished sign gleamed under the light. "Elcie Cottage."

Elcie, Elcie… I mulled over the word, and my eyes stung.

For years, Tracie had been stringing me along and treating me like a dog she could call whenever she pleased.

I never anticipated a future with her, so I never made our relationship fully public. But when a new coworker thought I was single and started sending flowers and making advances, Tracie immediately showed up at my office as soon as she heard.

She brought with her 9,999 imported luxury roses—making a grand gesture— and slipped a ring onto my finger.

"If you're trying to make me jealous, congratulations, it worked," she said. "Let's get married."

She gave me the villa as a gift and had me design every inch of it myself.

How ironic.

"It's fine," I said to Jason. "We're divorced."

Just after I sent the divorce papers to the courthouse for notarization, Tracie's father, Morgan Conner, called and warmly invited me to a family dinner.

Over the years, her parents had never looked down on me. If anything, they treated me well, so I agreed and figured that I owed them an explanation for the divorce.

But when I arrived, I ran into Tracie and Elton.