My Wife's Last Wish to Be Buried With First Love, So I Let Her Go

1: 1

On her deathbed, my wife called our son and daughter to her side and told them that after she died, they were to bury her beside her first love.

They did as she asked, and they barred me from her funeral.

They said it was my fault, that I had kept their mother from finding true love and driven her into a depression that killed her.

After she was buried, my children and I had a violent argument, and in the middle of it my blood pressure spiked and I suffered a brain hemorrhage.

They watched me calmly, and let me go cold.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife's first love returned to the country.

She said an old classmate was coming home and she wanted to play the good host, that it had been years since she'd cooked herself, and this time she had prepared a full spread.

After a few drinks, she suddenly looked at me. "Wyatt Dickerson, let's separate."

Our son and daughter were both watching me, hope in their eyes.

Last time I reacted hard. I flipped the table, thinking I could hold on to our love, hold on to our family.

But behind my back she was quietly moving our assets, funding her old love's career, until I had nothing left.

This time, I would leave her with nothing, and with her name in ruins.

I looked at her. "Fine."

""

She froze for a moment, then took out the divorce agreement she'd clearly prepared in advance. "If you agree, sign it."

It was all spelled out in black and white. She wanted custody of both children, and I was to pay sixty percent of my income every month as child support for the two of them.

As for the assets she and I shared, she wanted ninety percent.

I looked at Penelope Joyce. "You walk away with nothing."

"Wyatt, I have no intention of fighting with you."

She looked at me calmly. "I've consulted a lawyer. An uncontested divorce is the best way to do this. That way we don't waste anyone's time."

"I could also file for a contested divorce, and I'd definitely get everything I'm asking for."

"I might even get more."

She looked at me. "All these years of marriage, I'm the one who held this family together. You gave it too little of your attention."

"Away on business about three hundred days a year. You weren't even home for the holidays."

"You spent less than two months a year at home. This family never had any warmth to it."

"And when you did come back, you never spent time with the kids. In the eyes of the law, all of that gets me more."

"Giving you ten percent of the assets is the best deal you're going to get."

"I'm only choosing an uncontested divorce out of respect for our years together."

I looked at the food on the table. It looked good, smelled good, tasted good. It was the first time in all these years I'd eaten something she cooked.

Before, every time I came back from a work trip, she said I cared too little about the family and made me take over all the housework.

As for those three hundred days a year on the road, that was what she demanded. She said I had to be ambitious while I was young, that I had to fall in line with what my bosses arranged if I wanted to climb faster.

And traveling meant more money. Triple pay over the holidays. You couldn't pass up a chance to earn like that.

Whenever I said I was tired, or said I missed home, it set her off. She'd call me a loser.

Over time, I chose silence.

And as for not spending time with the kids, that part was true.

During my time off, she pushed me to drive for Uber and deliver food, so no, I didn't have enough time for the children.

But what she didn't know was that, because I'd been reborn, I now knew a certain secret.

2: 2

I looked at her. "You agree to walk away with nothing, and we settle it by agreement. You don't, we settle it in court."

"Wyatt, do you honestly think there's anything left between us?"

"Living apart all these years. I've had enough of it."

"We're both adults. Can we not drag this out?"

I'd tried again and again to talk to her about ending the travel, quitting the road. Every time, she blew up and called me lazy, said I had no drive.

Now the travel, the distance, had become a weapon she swung at me.

Only now I saw it for what it was. Arguing with her was a waste of my time.

I stood up, and on my way out I left her one line.

"If you agree to walk away with nothing, call me anytime. Or take me to court. I'll be waiting on the summons."

I was about to leave when Austin Carlson called after me.

"Mr. Dickerson, as an outsider here, allow me to say a couple of things."

"Love is the finest gift God ever gave mankind. You can't force a melon off the vine and expect it to be sweet."

I looked at him. "If you were rich enough, would Penelope be fighting me over money?"

Austin's face soured. "Mr. Dickerson, I'm speaking about the feelings between you and Penelope. Why drag me into it?"

"Besides, love isn't something you can measure in money."

"I'm an artist. I've never once bent my back for a bowl of rice."

I gave a small laugh. "An artist who lives off a woman. Very high artistic integrity."

"Wyatt, that's enough." Penelope glared and snapped at me, then turned to soothe Austin. "Don't stoop to a crude man like him."

"How could I. A big man forgives small things. I won't be upset." Austin's smile came out strained.

Penelope's eyes came back to me.

"Wyatt, I'm talking to you calmly, and that's for the children's sake. I didn't want to sour things. But don't throw kindness back in my face."

"Austin and I are clean. He just happened to be here today, and it made me see there really is a huge gap between one man and another. That's why I'm asking for the divorce."

"If you won't split the assets the way I said, I've got proof of you breaking the rules."

"Let me remind you. A lot of our conversations were recorded. Not just audio. Video too."

"Think about it. If I hand this over, imagine where you'll end up."

"Don't believe me? Take a look at this clip."

3: 3

Penelope pulled up a video on her phone.

It was footage from one of the times I came home from a business trip.

"This time I did it your way instead of playing it safe. Twelve grand in kickbacks this trip."

On the screen, I was handing her a stack of cash.

"If you'd started doing this earlier we'd already be rich. Tell me everything, how it went."

And I did. I walked her through every last detail of how the kickback worked.

Penelope closed the video. "There are plenty more like this."

She looked at me. "Every time you came back I asked you for the details. All of it can be used as evidence."

"We've been married a long time. That's the only reason I haven't turned it in."

In my line of work, anyone with the nerve could skim a lot off the top, especially me, sent out of town as the man in charge on site.

I held the important resources. In the early days Penelope was always telling me I had no guts, that I never thought about this family.

I argued with her about it, and got the silent treatment for it.

To hold the family together, I gave in. And now that same thing had become another weapon she used against me.

What she never understood was that my giving in was only ever aimed at her. Inside, I had always kept to my own principles.

"Your base pay is thirty grand a month now, plus the project bonus every year. I'm not asking for much."

"You don't give it to me, we both go down together."

"I've got nothing and no one to lose. You think I'm scared?"

I didn't give her the chance to keep going. I turned and walked out of that home that had no warmth left in it.

Now I had to get some things ready for the divorce.

"Will he give in?" Austin sounded a little worried.

"He loves me. He nearly died in that fire saving me all those years ago. He'll give in."

I didn't know what they were saying in that room. Right now I had more important things to do.

Down at the foot of the building, I breathed in, greedy for it.

So it turned out even breathing was a kind of happiness. And I was only thirty-five this year.

At thirty-five, I'd finally seen Penelope for what she was, and I was pulling in 1.2 million a year.

Even the air tasted sweet.

My mood really was good. But that wasn't a reason to let Penelope off.

Forty-some minutes later, I arrived at a well-known local law firm.

I wasn't going to wait for Penelope to sue for divorce, and there was no way I'd agree to a settlement with her. This time I was the one filing.

The lawyer took the evidence I'd brought and gave me a professional answer.

Confirmation that I could win, that Penelope would walk away with nothing, and that I could recover my losses, the joy spread up from somewhere deep inside.

It was that whole-body ease, a feeling I hadn't known in a very long time.

Before, the pressure had felt crushing. Penelope's wants climbed right alongside my income, and I always felt like I couldn't keep up.

The moment I decided to divorce, I realized the money I made was more than enough for me to live well.

That night, the moment I checked into the hotel, I could pee standing up.

I could crank the showerhead all the way open and not worry about water going everywhere.

When I slept I didn't have to lay down a mat first. All around me was the smell of freedom.

Over the next few days I felt like the man I used to be had come back.

I could have my own likes. I could do things my own way.

And I couldn't wait for the moment the divorce came through.

Time slipped by. Half a month passed, the easiest half month I'd had since I got married.

And the most agonizing half month for Penelope.

I'd already applied to freeze our joint assets. She kept trying to reach me all through it, but I'd blacklisted her long ago.

She went to the company to corner me and learned I was on leave.

She figured I was playing hard to get, luring her in to close the trap. But today what she got was a court summons.

4: 4

Before the trial even began, the company called. Penelope had shown up making a scene, and they wanted me to come back and handle it.

By the time I got there, a crowd had already gathered around her.

The second she saw me, she pointed. "Wyatt, you know what I want. Tell me right now whether you'll agree."

"If you won't, I'll make sure you can't stay at this company."

"Security. Escort her out."

The moment I spoke, security moved in.

"What do you think you're doing?" Penelope shouted. They only tried to reason with her, not wanting to drag her out by force.

"Wyatt, I've been giving you a chance and you keep throwing it back at me. I'll give you one last minute to think it over."

I ignored her and called the police.

Her face went uglier at that. "Wyatt, you forced this."

She pulled out her phone and opened a video. "Come here, all of you. Come see what kind of man Wyatt really is."

"Abusing his position, taking kickbacks off the company."

As it played, the employees murmured and pointed at me.

"Ma'am, I'm the vice chairman of this company. Let me explain."

Philip Cobb came to stand beside me, looking at Penelope.

"The kickbacks you're claiming in that video, none of it happened."

She lost her patience. "What's that supposed to mean? Did Wyatt pay you off? Is that why you're covering for him?"

"A man like him poisons the whole company. He should be fired."

Philip turned to the finance director. "Director Walker, show Penelope Wyatt's pay stubs."

Elliot Walker had someone print my pay stubs on the spot and handed them to her.

The instant she saw the numbers, the fury boiled up in her. "Wyatt, you lied to me?"

The salary I'd told her was far below what I actually earned. The extra I'd chalked up to kickbacks, or bonuses from certain projects.

I did it to keep the peace at home, so Penelope would stop calling me rigid and one-track.

And the method itself had come from Philip. He was my superior, and my mentor.

"Wyatt, you win this round. We'll see about the rest."

She left with that parting shot. I knew she wouldn't let it go, just as I knew I wasn't about to let her off either.

The trial was in two days. That was where the real fight would happen.

On the day of the trial, I arrived early.

Penelope shot me a vicious look when she came in. Once the hearing officially opened, her lawyer went first.

He built his attack on my constant business trips and my absence from home, on my not spending time with the child.

He said I'd given nothing to this family.

When my lawyer's turn came, he didn't fight back on any of that.

He only looked at the judge. "My client has a paternity test report here."