Pregnancy should have been a joyful time. Instead, it was the loneliest chapter of my life. My husband Arnie, once loving and attentive, turned cold the moment I began to show. He mocked my appearance, ignored my pain, and came home reeking of perfume. His words cut deep—calling me lazy, unattractive, and a burden. I was eight months pregnant when he brought another woman home—Stacy—and handed me divorce papers. He sneered, said he didn’t want me or the baby,

and mocked how I looked. But what he didn’t know was that I already had a plan in motion. I signed the papers… and waited. You see, Stacy wasn’t just any woman. I had hired her. I was done being hurt, and I needed to protect myself and my unborn daughter. Arnie, arrogant and oblivious, fell for Stacy easily. And while he chased his fantasy,he also signed over the house and finances without a second glance. When my daughter Riley was born, I felt more empowered than ever. Stacy eventually came clean—mission accomplished. I moved back into the house with my baby, ready for a new start. One day, Arnie showed up,
begging Stacy to come back. When he saw me, he lost it. I told him the truth: Stacy was part of my plan. He had destroyed himself—I only gave him the rope. “Come back to me,” he pleaded. “No,” I said. “You’re the one no one wants now.” I shut the door, held Riley close, and smiled. I had lost a husband, but gained everything that truly mattered.