Chapter 4
Derek’s parents show up for their visit.
Just like their son-polite, proper, but emotionally distant as hell.
I go full-service mode on them.
Following every detail in that contract, I prep three meals plus snacks daily with perfect nutritional balance.
Morning and evening vitals checks with color-coded charts they can actually understand.
[ chat them up, take them around town, even break out massage techniques I YouTubed the night before.
They start off pretty formal, but my over-the-top care routine melts them fast.
Can’t stop praising me: “Jessica honey, you’re better than family! Derek hit the jackpot with you!”
Derek gets this weird expression every time they say it.
‘roud because I’m making him look like husband of the year.
But also freaked out because my performance is almost too perfect.
‘or two solid weeks, our place runs like some luxury assisted living facility with me as their personal concierge.
light before they fly home, Derek’s mom corners me with this fat envelope.
Jessica, we want you to have this. After everything you’ve done-please, just take it.”
do the whole “oh no, I couldn’t” dance, but when they pull the “you’ll hurt our feelings” card, I cave.
erek watches the entire exchange without saying a word.
ecause technically? Everything’s kosher according to his precious contract.
fter we drop them at the airport, Derek comes home to find dinner ready and the house immaculate. Actually tells le, “Hey, thanks for all that.”
just smile. “No biggie. Part of the gig, right?”
tap the envelope sitting on the counter.
lis jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite.
erek thinks we’re done here.
16:11
I’m on the Operating Table and You Venmo-Request HALF?! Die Mad, Bro!
8.59%
Thinks I’m satisfied with whatever cash his parents stuffed in there.
Poor guy has no clue what he just handed me.
That money was never the point.
What I needed was his signature on that agreement-the part where he legally acknowledged my “domestic services” deserve “monetary compensation.”
That signature just became my smoking gun.
Now I can blow up the biggest lie in his legal playbook-that housework has no dollar value.
Digging through his case files, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
Some housewife tried to claim compensation for years of unpaid domestic labor in her divorce. Her husband’s attorney-my dear Derek-tore her apart, calling it “impossible to quantify” and “legally meaningless.” Woman walked away with nothing.
Derek’s closing argument was a masterpiece about how “homemakers’ emotional labor can’t be monetized and therefore holds no weight in asset division.”
Reading it now makes me want to puke.
Time to use his own words to destroy him.
Everything’s in place. Just need one last thing-divorce grounds he can’t wiggle out of.
16:11
I’m on the Operating Table and You Venmo-Request HALF?! Die Mad, Bro!
8.9%
