Beatrice frantically flipped through the pages as if looking for some loophole, some salvation. «But alimony. He has a right to alimony.»

I smiled for the first time that night. «Page five, section three. Spousal support waiver. ‘Both parties hereby waive any right to spousal support, alimony, or maintenance.’ David waived his right to alimony when he signed this.»

«I didn’t know what I was signing!» David shouted, drawing attention from neighboring tables. «You tricked me!»

«I tricked you? David, you were there when the lawyer explained each clause. You said you understood. There are witnesses. Everything is registered at the courthouse.» The expression on Beatrice’s face was changing from confusion to horror. Reality was hitting like a runaway train.

«You mean he has no right to anything?» she asked.

«Nothing. Zero. Zilch.» I put the papers back in the envelope. «David leaves the marriage exactly as he entered: with his financed pickup, his clothes, and his credit card debts.»

David ran his hand over his face, finally understanding the magnitude of the situation. «Marina, for God’s sake, we can talk about this. You can’t leave me with nothing. I’m going to have a child to support.»

«You are going to have a child to support,» I emphasized, «with your car salesman salary, which, by the way, with child support, will be quite tight.»

«Child support?» Beatrice asked, her voice coming out as a whisper.

«Of course, the father has to pay child support. In Texas, it’s usually 20 percent of net income for one child. If David earns $5,000 gross, about $3,800 net remains. Twenty percent of that is $760 per month, until the child turns 18.» The two looked at each other in panic; they clearly hadn’t done these calculations. «Plus medical expenses, daycare when necessary, clothes, education. It’s going to be quite expensive to have a baby, guys.»

David sank into his chair. «My God, Marina, how can you be so cold? So calculating?»

«Calculating? Me? You two planned this betrayal for months, humiliated me publicly in this same restaurant, and I’m the calculating one?»

Beatrice was clearly doing mental math. If David earned $5,000 a month and was going to pay $800 in support, $4,200 would remain—minus taxes, about $3,400 net—to support him, her, and a baby. «Beatrice, how much do you earn as a freelancer again?» I asked, knowing the answer well.

«It varies, about $2,000 a month when there are projects.»

«About $2,000 when there are projects. So you’ll live on $5,400 monthly at best, for three people. Living where?»

«At my parents’ house in San Antonio,» she murmured.

«That one-bedroom apartment you rent for $800? It’s going to be cramped with a baby, don’t you think?» The silence at the table was deafening. Around us, other customers dined happily, oblivious to the financial drama unfolding just meters away.

«Marina,» David tried once more, «are you really going to do this? Leave us with nothing? I know we hurt you, but—»

«David, you didn’t hurt me. You tried to rob me. You thought I was an emotional idiot who would hand over half of my $600,000 patrimony because you were ‘in love’.»

«$600,000?» Beatrice repeated, incredulous.

«Surprise! I’m richer than you imagined. And now, with the promotion, I’ll earn $16,000 a month while you fight over money for diapers.» David buried his face in his hands.

«I’m an idiot. A complete idiot.»

«Finally, something we agree on,» I said.

Beatrice tried one last card. «Mari, you’re my sister. We’ve always been family. You can’t abandon us like this. And your niece or nephew? Don’t you want to help?»

«Beatrice, you tried to steal my husband, thinking you’d steal my fortune along with him. You calculated wrong. And now you’ll have to live with the consequences of your choices.»

«But family—»

«Family doesn’t betray family. Family doesn’t humiliate family in public restaurants. Family doesn’t seduce their sister’s husband out of greed.» I got up from the table, leaving two $50 bills, again more than enough for my part. «Your lawyers can contact mine, Helena Williams, in Houston. She has all the necessary information.»

«Marina, wait,» David stood up, trying to follow me.

«No, David. You waited. You waited four months to tell me the truth. You waited until the day of my promotion to maximize the humiliation. You waited until you thought you had everything planned perfectly. Now I’m going to make you wait.»

«Wait for what?» Beatrice asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

«Wait to see what it’s like to be poor. What it’s like to live counting pennies. What it’s like not being able to pay for dinner at a $200 restaurant.» I stopped at the door, looking back at both of them. «Maybe now you’ll understand why I work so hard to have what I have. And why I protect what’s mine.»

I left Terrazzo hearing Beatrice start to cry and David cursing under his breath. In the parking lot, sitting in my car, I allowed myself a moment of pure satisfaction. They had tried to destroy me and ended up destroying themselves. My phone rang. It was Helena.

«So? How was the theater?»

«Better than Broadway. You should have seen their faces when they understood they wouldn’t get anything.»

«Marina, you’re diabolical. And I completely approve.»

«Helena, can I file for divorce tomorrow?»

«I can file the papers Monday. In 60 days, you’ll be free. And they’ll still be poor.» I drove home smiling for the first time in weeks. Actually, smiling more than I had smiled in years.

Six months later, life had settled into a new normalcy that I had never imagined possible. The divorce was finalized in exactly 60 days. David didn’t contest, probably because any competent lawyer would have explained that he didn’t have the slightest chance of winning. Helena did impeccable work, and I officially became single on a sunny July morning.

Through social media and my mother’s inevitable comments, I followed from afar the reality that David and Beatrice were facing. It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. You know you should look away, but you can’t.

David continued working at the BMW dealership, but things weren’t easy. With the unstable economy, luxury car sales had decreased, and his commission had plummeted along with it. According to my mother, he was earning about $3,500 a month, much less than the $5,000 he used to make.

«Marina, David is going through difficulties,» my mother said during one of our weekly phone conversations. «With the baby’s support, very little is left for him to live on.»

«What a shame,» I replied, without a hint of genuine sympathy. «But babies are expensive. He should have thought about that beforehand.»

Little Sophia had been born in September, a little girl who, from photos circulating in the family, had David’s eyes and Beatrice’s stubbornness. The $800 monthly child support was being automatically deducted from David’s salary, leaving even less money for his own expenses.

Beatrice had moved back to our parents’ house in San Antonio. The one-bedroom apartment she rented was impossible for a couple with a baby, and even splitting bills, they couldn’t afford anything bigger. Our parents, already retired and living on a limited income, now supported three adults and a baby on my father’s retirement.

«Beatrice is trying to get more clients, but it’s difficult with the baby,» my mother continued. «And David, he seems so tired lately, working late, driving an hour and a half every day between Austin and San Antonio.» David had tried to move to San Antonio to be closer to the family but couldn’t get a transfer at the dealership. Now he made the daily commute, spending a fortune on gas he could barely afford.

«He asked to talk to you,» my mother said hesitantly. «Maybe you could resolve some things.»

«Mom, we have nothing to resolve. The divorce is finalized. He has a new family. Let everyone follow their own life.» It was true. I had followed my life spectacularly.

With the divorce resolved and the betrayal overcome, my energy multiplied exponentially. I concentrated all my strength on my career and business, and the results exceeded my most optimistic expectations. As commercial director, I beat all first-quarter targets, securing the maximum bonus. My effective salary reached $22,000 a month in some periods.

The startup I was a partner in secured new investment, tripling the value of my stake. In October, I found an even larger and more modern loft in downtown Austin: two floors, three bedrooms, and a private terrace with a lake view. I sold my old apartment for $500,000—an $80,000 profit in five years—and bought the loft in cash for $700,000.

I renovated everything from scratch: a German kitchen, complete automation, a private gym, and an office with a panoramic view. I spent $200,000 on the renovation, but the result was an architectural work of art that became the cover of Austin Home & Design magazine.

«Wow, Marina,» said Simone, my assistant, when she came to see the new loft, «this looks like a movie house. You’ve achieved the American dream.» It was true. At 30, I had a net worth of over $1 million, a solid career at an international company, and complete freedom to do whatever I wanted.

I traveled to Europe three times that year—Paris, Rome, Barcelona—always alone, always first class, always staying at the best hotels. I bought clothes at boutiques I previously considered too expensive, dined at Michelin-starred restaurants, and shopped without looking at prices.