Because the next move would be mine.
I waited three weeks.
During that time, I played the perfect wife. I sent Jason morning texts, asked about work trips, packed his bags. He smiled, kissed me, and kept living the lie.
Meanwhile, I was building the case.
The lawyer moved fast. We drafted custody plans, froze joint accounts, secured the deed to our home under my name—thankfully a gift from my parents before the marriage. Jason had no clue.
Then came the day I flipped the chessboard.
It was a Sunday morning. I told Jason I was taking Mason to visit my sister in San Diego. Instead, I booked a room at a hotel near the courthouse.
That same afternoon, a courier delivered the divorce petition to both the townhouse and his coworking space. It included documentation of marital fraud, financial concealment, and proposed sole custody of Mason.
His phone blew up with calls and texts—none of which I answered.
By the time he reached me, I was sitting with my lawyer in mediation prep.
