Early the next morning, Chris's family group chat exploded with videos of a certain young woman.

The girl was bouncing around, laughing, radiating youthful energy.


Right on cue, at 7:01 AM, Chris called.

"Emily, what the hell are you doing posting Katie's videos in the family chat?"

"Nothing special. Just introducing your family to their newest member-to-be."


"Don't think you can manipulate me through my family!"

The line beeped, and I discovered he'd disbanded the family group chat.


Hmph, Chris really isn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

You think deleting a group chat stops me from spreading the word?

You're so obsessed with your precious reputation?

Let's see how you salvage your image now.

I uploaded an audio clip to my social media.

It was one of those surveillance recordings that would make anyone's skin crawl.

I selected all of Chris's family members.

I captioned it, "Time for the family to see the truth," and hit post.

Within five minutes, my phone was blowing up with notifications.

I switched my messaging app to "do not disturb."

Simultaneously, the same photos—with Kate's face tastefully blurred—appeared on Chris's company website.

Leo kept pleading with me to spare Kate's job.

Since she wasn't my primary target, I agreed.

By lunchtime, a signed divorce agreement arrived by courier.

Everything that was rightfully mine, returned to me.

As for Chris—I offered you mercy, and you threw it away. Now you're reaping what you've sown.

A month later, a distant former in-law messaged me.

Emily, Chris was never a good man. I knew it when he promised to help me find work but never delivered.

You're not in touch with him anymore, are you? Just thought you should know—shortly after your divorce, Chris got canned.

That girlfriend of his? The moment she realized he was broke, she vanished. Shame about the baby, though. Already had little arms and legs forming. And it was a boy, too.

(The End)