My Husband Demanded Divorce After Mom Won the Lottery

After my mom won the lottery, she decided to head to the provincial capital overnight to avoid any complications, planning to claim the prize first thing in the morning.

I thought it would be nice to bring my husband along to share in the good fortuneand maybe surprise him with the Porsche he'd always wanted.

I called him over a dozen times while he was supposedly working late.

When he finally picked up, he sounded distracted, laughing and chatting with some female coworker in the background.

It wasn't until I said, "Your mom won the lottery!" that he actually paid attention.

His voice shifted instantlybarely concealed excitement and glee.

"How much?"

I smiled to myself, deciding to lowball it for now as a little surprise. "Fifty million. She wants you to take her to the provincial capital to collect it. Hurry home, and we can all go togeth"

He cut me off sharply. "Your mom? That's my mom!"

"Let me make one thing clear, Zelda Swansondon't even think about touching a cent of my money. When I get back, we're getting divorced."

My grip tightened around the phone. My heart shattered in two.

The man who'd sworn he loved methe moment he thought his mother had won the lottery, his first instinct was to divorce me.

Fine. If that's what you want.

1.

"Okay."

He was so thrilled to be rid of me that he forgot to hang up.

And just like that, he started flirting with his coworker right there on the line.

I heard him do something that made her squeal.

Her syrupy voice floated through the speaker: "Oh, stop it! Your mom just won fifty millionyou're going to be a multimillionaire! You'd better not forget about me."

Clement's voice dripped with smug satisfaction. "Of course not. Now that I've dumped that worn-out hag, you'll be the lady of the James household."

"Wow, babe! Your mom is so lucky. She's got great taste."

"Obviously," he preened. "My mother's always been sharpnothing like that annoying old bat who raised Zelda."

The irony was suffocating. We weren't even divorced yet, and his mistress was already calling him "babe."

And that "annoying old bat" he was mocking? Just moments ago, she'd been talking about buying him a car.

A Porsche worth over a million dollarsshe was willing to buy it for her son-in-law. Meanwhile, when I'd asked for a thirty-thousand-dollar handbag, she'd scolded me for being wasteful.

I couldn't stomach another second of their nauseating conversation. I hung up.

Then I turned to my mom, who'd been waiting eagerly for her son-in-law to arrive so they could all go claim the prize together, and told her everything.

Tears spilled from her clouded eyes.

She trembled with rage, gripping my hand so tightly her knuckles went white. This woman, well past fifty, was too hurt to even speak.

My heart sank. I looked her straight in the eyes and said firmly, "Mom, you're the one who won the lottery. Don't tell Clement."

She looked confused, so I explained slowly: "Since he wants to be heartless, let him stay in the dark. After the divorce is finalized, we'll tell him the truthand watch just how far he's willing to go."

A few minutes later, there was rustling outside the door. The electronic lock beeped, and the door swung open with force.

Clement James walked in. The moment he saw me and my mother, undisguised disgust flickered across his face.

He sneered. "What's this? Heard my mom won the lottery and came running to beg for scraps?"

Before I could respond, he glared at me, his eyes sharp with hostility and suspicion. "Don't even think about getting your hands on my money, Zelda."

"Sign this agreement and get the hell out of my housetake your mother with you."

What I hadn't expected was that he'd be so eager he'd actually brought divorce papers with him.

I studied his smug, self-satisfied face with detached amusement, then smiled meaningfully.

"Are you sure you want a divorce?"

Clement lifted his chin, staring down at me with naked contempt, as if the money were already in his pocket.

"Absolutely certain. I'm about to be a millionaire. And you?" He looked me up and down, wagging his finger dismissively. After a long moment, he shook his head with a mocking click of his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. The daughter of a butchertell me, what exactly made you think you were ever worthy of me?"

"I always said I'd make it big someday. When we got married, I asked your parents to buy me a Porsche, and they refused. Well, look at me nowI've hit the jackpot! Someone must be drowning in regret."

He shot a pointed glance at my mother, then quickly looked away.

Whistling cheerfully, he sauntered from room to room, clearly in high spirits.

"Mom! Come out! Your son's here to take you to claim the prize!"

After searching for a while, Clement turned to glare at my mother and me, his eyes full of suspicion.

"You're trying to keep the lottery ticket for yourselves, aren't you? You've hidden my mom somewhere! Bring her out right now, or I'm calling the police!"

He spoke as though he held the moral high ground, which only made it more infuriating.

I squeezed my mother's hand, offering her silent comfort.

When I looked back at Clement, my gaze was ice cold.

"Just because your own mind is filthy doesn't mean everyone else's is."

I snatched up the divorce papers from nearby, signed my name in one swift stroke, and shoved them hard into his chest.

"Signed. Now get out of my house. Or have you forgotten that my family paid for it?"

I'd never seen it before, but now, looking at this man I'd been married to for three years, I realized I'd never truly known him at all.

There was no telling what schemes he might cook up regarding the house, so I figured I'd remind him preemptively.

Clement had always been obsessed with saving face. At my words, his eyes flickered, but he kept his expression haughty. "Of course I haven't forgotten. This dump? I've been wanting to upgrade for ages!"

He cast a disdainful look around the room. His mouth said one thing, but his feet stayed plantedclearly reluctant to leave.

I grabbed the suitcase I'd already packed for him from beside the sofa and dropped it at his feet. "Your things. Get out."

I don't know where Clement ended up going. My mother and I traveled to the provincial capital together.

The next morning, we collected the prize without any issues.

Mom declined any media coverage, but she did donate ten million dollars to impoverished mountain regions.

Once all the paperwork was done, I finally had a chance to check my phone.

Messages flooded the screen.

Mutual friends of mine and Clement's were all asking what was going on. Everyone knew Clement's mother had won the lotterythey just didn't know how much.

I replied to each of them the same way: "No idea. Clement and I are divorced now."

After responding, I opened Clement's social media feed out of habit.

He'd been showing off nonstop. Luxury hotels. Five-star meals.

A photo from a car dealership, captioned with ridiculous bravado: "Just a little Mercedes. Consider it mine."

I raised an eyebrow, utterly speechless.

The comments were full of mutual friends fawning over him.

His female coworkerprobably terrified he'd dump her now that he had moneyhad somehow convinced him to post about her constantly over the past few days.

That's just how the world works. People mock the poor, never the shameless.

Because of money, everyone wanted to cozy up to Clement. Not a single person called him out for cheating, for being faithless.

Instead, they congratulated him on landing such a beauty.

Wished him and his "new lady" a lifetime of happiness together.

While waiting for the divorce to finalize, I listed the apartment online.

A week later, I brought potential buyers to view it. Clement blocked my way.

Looking at this man I hadn't seen in daysface glowing with self-satisfactionmy expression turned cold.

"Move. This is my house. You have no say in what I do with it."

Clement stood there, one hand on his hip, his growing belly jutting out. He curled his lip into a sneer. "All you want is money, isn't it? Finename your price. I'll buy it."

I looked at him with interest, my smile not reaching my eyes. "Oh? Did you win the lottery or something?"

He lifted his chin. "You already know, don't you?"

"Have you claimed the prize yet?"

His expression cooled, a flash of impatience crossing his face. "Why do you care? I'm taking this house. Keep it ready for me. I'll transfer the money in three days, and we'll go change the property deed."

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, something ugly glinting in his eyes. "I'm getting married. This is going to be our placemine and Yvonne's. We'll be doing it on the bed you bought. Thought you might like to feel... involved."

I stepped back, my face blank, a smile playing at the corner of my lips. "Well, congratulations! I'll be waiting for that good news in three days."

Three days later, Clement never showed.

His mother had been causing chaos back in their hometown, and she'd always been at odds with their neighbor, Maya Chavez.

Maya sent me a message asking if Clement and I had gotten divorced.

When I confirmed it, she sent me a voice note, practically vibrating with indignation.

"He deserves everything he's getting. You have no idea how crazy things are at the James house right now."

"Your ex-mother-in-law told Clement she won the lottery, and now he's hounding her for the money."

"Guess what happened."

Before I could respond, she answered her own question.

"She actually went with Clement all the way to the city to claim her prize. Turns out it was a first-place winner's ticket from the supermarket."

"First prize was ten eggs."

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it.

Lucia probably had no idea why her son had suddenly become so attentive, showering her with concern. Clement kept going on about winning the lottery, so she must have assumed he meant her supermarket prize ticket.

"Oh, it's absolute mayhem over there right now. They're having a massive blowout. Listenyou can hear your ex-mother-in-law wailing. It's so loud it's carrying all the way to my house."

Through the voice note, I could faintly make out Lucia's sobbing.

I couldn't stop grinning. A wave of satisfaction washed over me. They deserved every bit of it.

Lucia's family lived in the countryside and had always favored sons over daughters. Even though Clement and I had graduated from the same university, they still acted like I wasn't good enough for him.

Every time they humiliated me, every time they made me feel small, Clement would take my hand and tell me to bear with it. Family harmony above all.

Then, after I'd been torn down until there was nothing left of my dignity, he'd pull me into his arms, his eyes full of tenderness.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, babe."

I knew that once Clement found out it was actually my mother who won the lottery, he'd come crawling back.

So I took her to stay at a hotel ahead of time and listed the house with a real estate agent.

But it wasn't long before the agent called with bad news. The house couldn't be sold.

Clement, unable to find me, had hired a locksmith to break in. He'd moved himself right in.

Every time the agent brought potential buyers to view the property, he'd come at them with a hammer, screaming until they fled.

"This is my fucking house! Try to sell it and see what happens!"

The agent showed him the property deed, keeping his tone professional. "Sir, this is the deed for this property. The name on it doesn't appear to be yours."

The agent had been nothing but polite. Clement's eyes went bloodshot. He snatched the deed and tore it to shreds.

"Even if it's not mine, it's my wife's! We're not selling! Get the hell out!"

The agent told me Clement had seemed unhinged, muttering to himself like a broken record: "She's my wife. What's hers is mine. We're not divorced. We're just having a fight!"

There was no way I was going to let him squat in my house.

I told my mother what was happening and went back alone.

Clement was passed out on the couch, dead drunk, snoring loudly.

The apartment reeked of stale aira nauseating blend of takeout containers left to rot for God knows how long and the sour stench of alcohol. I pulled out a mask and put it on, making no move to wake Clement. Instead, I called building security.

By the time they arrived, it took several guards to haul Clement upright before he finally stirred awake. He squinted at me through bleary eyes, rubbing them with both hands, looking again to make sure I was real.

Then he shook off the guards and dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.

He crawled toward me, sobbing. "Baby, you finally came back! I missed you so much!"

I stepped back, pulling free of his grasp. "Clement, we're divorced."

He acted like he hadn't heard a word, shamelessly pressing on. "No, we're not divorced. Please don't leave me, baby."

I kicked him away. "Clement, stop. This is pathetic."

Something I said must have set him off. He shot to his feet, face flushed crimson, eyes bulging with rage. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"Zelda, I knew ityou're a scheming bitch. You deliberately hid that your mom won the lottery. You were afraid I'd spend your family's money. You wanted this divorce all along, didn't you?"

His conviction was almost laughable.

"Afraid you'd spend my family's money? As if you haven't already?"

The house we lived in? My parents bought it. His salary was three thousand a month, yet he was always promising he'd be rich someday, convinced he was a diamond in the rough.

He wasn't even like those typical gold-diggers you read about online.

His excuse was that he needed a nice car to meet clientsnever mind that his job didn't involve meeting clients at all. He said he needed a car for his commute. When my parents asked what kind, he said a Porsche.

I shut that down and got him a basic sedan instead.

But he never let it go. Every holiday, big or small, he'd bring it up whenever he visited my parents. Mom remembered. When she won the lottery, the first thing she wanted to do was buy him that car.

"What money of yours have I spent? I told youwhen I make it big, I'll pay you back double! Everything I spent was basically my own money!"

I stared at him, speechless.

Before I could respond, he threw himself onto the couch, crossed his legs, and jabbed a finger at the stunned security guards.

"What are you standing around for? Get out! This is my house!"

I'd had enough. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.

"You must be drunk out of your mind! Fifteen more days and the cooling-off period ends. We. Are. Divorced."

The slap didn't sober him up. He froze for a moment.

Then he looked at me, eyes bloodshot, like a viper coiling to strike.

I kept my expression cold, but my heart was pounding as he advanced toward me, step by step.

One punch landed. Then another.

The security guards finally snapped out of it and pulled him back.

I called the police.

When the officers arrived and learned we weren't technically divorced yet, they exchanged a look.

"Ma'am, you should get your injuries documented," one said. "But honestly, couples fight. It's normal. Calling the police over every little thing wastes resources."

When he saw I wasn't backing down, he added, "Besides, didn't you hit him too? You want me to take you both in?"

I said nothing. I watched Clement flash them a grin as he walked them to the door.

Then he turned back to me, smirking, waving his fists.

Fine.

I smiled slowly and walked toward him.

Left hook. Right hook. Every blow landed solid.

Clement howled like a wounded animal.

I'm an only child. My parents made sure I'd never be anyone's victim.

Growing up, my dad enrolled me in every martial art that looked useful for self-defensetaekwondo, kung fu, Muay Thai. If it was featured on TV as effective, I was signed up the next week.

My training was scattered, sure, but it was more than enough to handle Clement.