The Safe Bet's Revenge: My Badass Wife

"Sign it." I slammed the divorce papers onto the table. Eden stared at the paper. Her eyes instantly went red. She whipped around.

Her fourinch stiletto sliced through the air and smashed into Spencer's knee. Crack. An agonizing scream pierced the air.

The manipulative exboyfriend who thought he controlled everything dropped like a sack of wet mud, clutching his shattered kneecap and howling. I froze.

Three months ago, for the first time in our sevenyear marriage, she didn't come home at night.

The next morning, Spencer showed up at our door. "Thanks for letting Eden keep me company last night." He flashed a polite smile and casually handed me a bracelet—the one I had given Eden for our anniversary.

For three months, this guy used every dirty trick in the book to poison my marriage. I decided to walk away.

But now, my wife—who was supposed to be running into her ex's arms—just kicked him to the floor? Chapter 1 The glow of my phone screen flickered in the pitchblack living room.

Three in the morning. Eden still wasn't home. In seven years, this was a first. I didn't call. I didn't text. I just sat on the couch and waited in the dead silence.

A tight knot formed in the center of my chest, pressing against my lungs until every breath felt shallow and forced.

When the lock finally clicked, pale morning light was already bleeding through the windows. Eden pushed the door open. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

Seeing me, she froze, her gaze darting away. "Nolan? Why are you still up?" "Waiting for you." I stood. My throat felt like sandpaper.

She kicked off her heels and walked over, reaching out to hug me out of habit. I stepped aside before I even realized what I was doing. Her arms hovered in midair.

The smile died on her lips. "I…" she started, stopping to wet her lips. "An old college friend flew back into the country last night. His flight got delayed.

I went to pick him up, and it got too late, so I just crashed at a friend's place." "Right." I nodded, keeping my face blank.

The quieter I stayed, the faster her eyes darted around the room. "Are you mad?" she asked. "No. Get some sleep.

You've had a long night." I shook my head and turned toward the bedroom. I lay in bed with my back to her. The mattress dipped, but she stayed stiff, keeping a rigid distance.

I could feel her nervous gaze burning a hole between my shoulder blades. I didn't sleep a wink. Early the next morning, the doorbell rang. I pulled the door open.

A stranger stood on the porch in a tailored suit, looking entirely too polished. He flashed a calculated smile. "Hi there. Nolan, right? I'm Spencer." My stomach dropped. Spencer.

The name scribbled countless times in Eden's old journals.

Her college sweetheart. "I just wanted to come by and say thank you in person." He kept his tone polite. "If Eden hadn't picked me up from the airport last night, I would've been in a real bind." His gaze slid right past my shoulder, locking onto Eden behind me.

A sickeningly familiar warmth flashed in his eyes. "Eden. Did you sleep well last night?" All the color drained from Eden's face.

She rushed forward, planting herself between us. "Spencer. Why are you here?" Panic clipped her words. "I took a guess at the address.

Thought I'd try my luck." Spencer's smile didn't waver. "And I wanted to return this." He opened his palm. A silver bracelet rested there. My breathing hitched.

It was my thirdanniversary gift to her. She never took it off. Eden snatched the bracelet like it burned her skin, shoving it deep into her pocket. "You returned it.

Now leave." She pointed at the driveway. Spencer shrugged. His eyes shifted back to my face. Beneath that polite smile, a raw, unmistakable gloat stared back at me.

He didn't say another word. He didn't have to. I shut the door. The living room sank into a suffocating silence.

I looked at Eden's pale face, then down at her hand whiteknuckling her pocket. Seven years of marriage. It all felt like a sick joke. Chapter 2 "He's out of his mind, Nolan.

Don't listen to his bullshit," Eden pleaded, her eyes rimmed with red. "I didn't hear a thing," I said. I turned and walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

My fingers trembled against the glass. "The bracelet…" She followed right on my heels, her voice shaking. "Everything was a mess last night.

I have no idea how it fell off in his car." "Right." I took a sip. The icecold water slid down my throat, but it did nothing to put out the fire burning in my gut.

That single word dropped between us like a concrete wall. She shut her mouth. The living room settled into a suffocating silence.

From that day on, Spencer's name became a splinter lodged deep under our skin. A week later, I was working late by myself at the coffee shop downstairs from my office. "Nolan.

You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" Spencer held an Americano.

He didn't wait for an answer before pulling out the chair and casually resting his wrist on the table, making sure his blinding Rolex caught the light.

I looked up, keeping my face deadpan. He ignored my icy stare and kept right on talking. "Things were a bit rushed last time.

We didn't really get a chance to chat." "Eden and I went to college together.

We've known each other a long time." "I know." He chuckled, stirring his coffee. "Honestly, I came back this time just to see if she was doing okay." He paused, leaning forward across the table.

He dropped his voice, layering it with heavy, manufactured pity. "We grabbed dinner a few days ago.

She had a little too much to drink and spilled her guts." My pulse spiked. "She told me… marrying you was just a last resort. Her family was breathing down her neck, and you?

You were just the perfect, safe bet." The world tilted. A loud ringing hijacked my ears, drowning out the coffee shop's indie playlist and the background chatter.

Everything faded to static. The only thing left was the deafening thud of my own heartbeat and Spencer's poison echoing in my skull. I stared at his fake, sympathetic face.

Icecold water rushed through my veins. Under the table, my thumb found my phone. I blindly swiped and hit the record button. [Keep acting.

Let's see how far you take this.] I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid smile. "Is that right? That's what she told you?" "Yeah." Spencer sighed.

He patted the back of my hand like some wise, older brother. "Look, man, I know it's a tough pill to swallow." "But you can't force love.

Eden… she's miserable inside." Bile rose in the back of my throat as I watched his little performance.

So, in her eyes, I was just a "safe bet." Seven years of building a life together, wiped out by his three little words: she's miserable inside. "Thanks for letting me know." I pulled my hand out from under his.

My voice came out dead flat. He looked entirely too satisfied with my reaction. He threw out a few more meaningless pleasantries before finally getting up and walking out.

I sat frozen in the booth for a long time. My phone sat in my pocket, holding that audio file. It felt like a black hole, threatening to swallow every last shred of my sanity.

That night, I lied to Eden for the very first time. "Working late. I'm not coming home." I rented a cheap hotel room.

I sat alone on the edge of the mattress and hit play on that recording. Again and again. Spencer's voice.

Eden's "spilled guts." The words hacked at my chest like a rusty, jagged blade, tearing everything to shreds. Chapter 3 Over the next month, Spencer haunted my life like a ghost.

He kept "bumping into" me—at the gym, in the parking garage, even right outside my apartment building.

Every single time, he showed up with a fresh set of lies. "Eden says just looking at your face makes her suffocate.

She said living with you is like drowning in a dead pool of water." "Eden told me she envies my lifestyle. Flying all over the world. No strings attached.

She said she wants to run away." Every time, I plastered a polite smile on my face, my thumb digging into the record button on the phone hidden deep in my pocket.

My camera roll was filling up with audio files of Eden's "spilled guts." The invisible wall between Eden and me grew into a fortress.

We shared a mattress, but a whole damn ocean stretched between us. At dinner, she would still pass me the salt or ask if work was kicking my ass.

I'd stare at her soft smile and wonder how much disgust she was burying beneath it.

She started going out a lot. "Shopping with the girls." "Corporate dinner." "College reunion." I stopped asking who she was with. I stopped asking when she'd be back.

I just nodded and said, "Okay." One night, she stumbled in past two in the morning, reeking of tequila and sour lime.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her face into my collarbone. "Nolan… I'm so sorry." Every muscle in my body locked up.

I didn't know if that apology was for rolling in so late, or for shackling herself to a "safe bet." I peeled her arms off me and pulled the duvet over her shoulders.

In the pitch black, I stared at her sleeping profile. For the first time in seven years, I was looking at a total stranger.

The next morning, a text flashed across her locked phone screen. [Spencer: See you at the usual spot tomorrow. I booked that omakase place you love.] The usual spot.

They already had a routine. The last drop of warmth drained from my chest, leaving pure ice. I didn't wake her up. I didn't scream or break anything.

I just picked up her phone, took a screenshot, and AirDropped it to myself. I became a hunter.

I started stockpiling every piece of evidence to prove this marriage was a rotting corpse. I didn't even know who the proof was for.

Maybe I just wanted to make sure that when the time finally came to walk away, I wouldn't leave looking like an absolute clown. Sleep became impossible.

I spent nights staring at the popcorn ceiling until the shadows blurred. Seven years of memories played on a sick, infinite loop behind my eyelids.

The day we met—she wore a white sundress, flashing those two faint dimples. Our first date—my palms sweating through my jeans.

Getting down on one knee—her crying, nodding, whispering yes. Every sweet memory was a rusty nail driven straight into my ribs. I had built this entire marriage in my own head.

I was the only one playing house. The final nail in the coffin came on a rainy Tuesday. Spencer asked to meet at a highend private club downtown.

He sat across from me in a tailored suit, slowly swirling a crystal glass of whiskey. He looked down his nose at me, practically dripping with manufactured pity. "Nolan.

There's something I've been going back and forth on for a while. I wasn't sure if I should say anything." I stared at him. [Right on cue. Roll the cameras.] "But honestly?

You don't deserve to be kept in the dark anymore. It's just not fair to you." He slid a second glass of whiskey across the polished mahogany table.

The amber liquid sloshed against the rim.

Chapter 4 "Eden… she made her choice." He looked up, his eyes swimming with manufactured pity. "She said the only person she's ever truly loved… is me." "She said she's going to divorce you, so we can finally be together." The ambient noise of the private club cut out into dead static.

The condensation from the crystal glass seeped into my fingertips, but the chill sank straight into my marrow. I searched his face for a single microexpression of a lie. Nothing.

His performance was flawless. Even I almost bought it. He slid his phone across the mahogany table. A photo filled the screen.

Eden, asleep, her head resting peacefully against a man's shoulder. The angle conveniently cut off his face, but I recognized the fabric of the suit jacket.

Spencer had worn it a few days ago. "This was the night before last. We stayed up late talking.

She was exhausted, so she just crashed at my place," he explained, casual as if he were discussing the weather. I stared unblinking at the screen.

My ribcage felt like it had been cracked open, letting the freezing draft pour straight into my lungs.

I broke eye contact, picked up my glass, and threw the whiskey back in one shot.

The alcohol burned like battery acid, searing my throat so hard my eyes stung. "I get it." I slammed the empty glass onto the table and stood up.

I pushed through the heavy doors of the club into the freezing rain. The icy downpour soaked my face. I couldn't tell what was rain and what was my own pathetic weakness.

I walked into an empty apartment. I headed straight to the master bedroom and wrenched the closet doors open.

Her dresses and my shirts hung shouldertoshoulder, pressed tightly together. My eyes drifted to the framed wedding photo on the dresser. Eden was smiling so brightly.

I reached out, my thumb tracing the cold glass over her face. "We're done, Eden," I whispered to the empty room. I finally admitted it. My marriage was a rotting corpse.

And it died in this damn rain. It took me exactly one week to prepare for the end. I hired a lawyer and drafted the divorce papers. I walked away with practically nothing.

The house, the cars, the joint savings—I left it all to her. I just wanted my freedom and whatever was left of my shattered pride. For seven days, I operated like a machine.

I ate dinner with her. I watched TV with her. I moved through the motions of our daily routine. I just stopped looking into her eyes. She picked up on the shift.

A few times, her lips parted like she was going to say something, but one glance at my rigid jaw and she swallowed the words down. We existed in a suffocating vacuum.

I started packing. My books. A few shirts. I took the wedding photo out of its frame, wrapped it in a clean tshirt, and buried it at the bottom of my suitcase.

While clearing out the bottom drawer, my fingers brushed against a beatup cardboard box. I popped the lid. Inside sat a thick stack of letters.

Every note she ever wrote me, from our first date to our wedding day. [Nolan, it's our 100th day together.

I'm so incredibly happy!] [Nolan, you looked so hot playing basketball today.

I totally took pictures when you weren't looking.] [Nolan, marrying you is the best decision I'll ever make.] I flipped through them, one by one. My vision blurred.

A single, heavy drop hit the faded ink. Chapter 5 I used to think every word was real. Now, they were just props in a carefully constructed lie.

I dumped the stack of letters back into the cardboard box and shoved the whole thing deep into the trash can. I didn't need souvenirs to remind me what a blind fool I had been.

The night before I finalized the divorce papers, I went alone to our usual dive bar down the street.

The owner, a grizzled guy who had known us for years, slid a draft beer across the sticky counter. "Just you tonight?

You and the wife get into a fight?" I forced a tight smile and kept my mouth shut. I drank a lot that night.

I ended up spilling my guts to the owner about everything Eden and I had been through.

I talked about our first date, how my hands were shaking so badly I knocked a Coke right into her lap.

I talked about our wedding day, standing in front of her parents and swearing to protect her for the rest of my life. Before I even realized it, my vision blurred.

A thirtyyearold man, sitting at a dive bar, sobbing into his pint glass like a pathetic kid. The owner didn't offer any empty platitudes.

He just pushed a stack of rough paper napkins toward me. "Man, if it's broken beyond repair, stop cutting your hands trying to fix it," he muttered, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You gotta look forward." Right.

Forward. I stumbled back to the apartment, trashed. Eden was still awake, waiting on the couch. She rushed over to catch my arm.

The second the smell of stale beer hit her, her eyebrows snapped together. "Why did you drink so much?" I stared at the deep concern etched into her features, and a bitter, twisted humor bubbled up in my throat. [Still playing the devoted wife?

Doesn't it exhaust you?] I shoved her hands off my jacket. I staggered down the hall to the guest bedroom, slammed the door shut, and twisted the deadbolt. A heavy click.

A few seconds later, the muffled sound of her crying seeped under the door gap. My chest felt nothing but absolute, freezing numbness. The next day was our seventh anniversary.

The irony was almost poetic. I chose this exact date to put a bullet in our sevenyear marriage. I woke up at dawn.

I took a hot shower, shaved, and put on a crisp buttondown shirt, dressing like I was heading into a highstakes corporate boardroom. Eden was up early, too.

She had put on light makeup and slipped into the silk slip dress I bought her last year. The dining table was perfectly set.

A massive, panseared tomahawk steak rested on a ceramic platter, and the crystal decanter was filled with the exact vintage red wine we brought back from our honeymoon in Napa Valley.

When she saw me, her eyes lit up, shining with a manufactured brightness. "Happy anniversary, Nolan," she smiled. I stared at her bright, beaming face.

Not a single ripple of emotion broke through the ice in my chest. I pulled out a dining chair and sat down directly across from her. I didn't touch the steak.

I didn't look at the wine.

I unzipped my leather briefcase, pulled out the manila envelope containing the divorce papers, and slid it across the smooth wood table. "I want a divorce." My voice was dead quiet, but the words hit the silent dining room like a live grenade.

The smile froze hard on Eden's face. She stared at me in pure shock, her gaze snapping down to the thick stack of legal documents.

Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. "Why?" It took her a long time to finally force the word past her throat.

Her voice came out ragged and broken. "There is no why." I dropped my gaze, refusing to look at her. "I don't love you anymore.

It's time to cut our losses." "Don't love me?" She choked out a harsh, broken laugh as tears instantly spilled over her lower lashes. "Nolan, look me in the eyes and say that again!" I lifted my chin and met her tearfilled stare.

Those eyes I had worshipped for seven years were currently drowning in shock, agony, and desperation. A phantom ache flared behind my ribs.

But I locked it down, reminding myself this was the absolute last time. "Eden, let me go.

And let yourself off the hook." I articulated every single word with brutal precision. "Go be with the man you actually love." Chapter 6 "The man I love?" She froze. "The man I love is you!

Nolan, what the hell are you talking about?" She shot up from her chair. Her knees slammed into the table, jarring the wood.

The crystal glass toppled, sending red wine bleeding across the mahogany. Staring at her crumbling facade, I didn't feel a single ounce of satisfaction.

Just bonedeep exhaustion. "Let's drop the act, okay?" I pulled my phone out and dropped it onto the table. "Let's just be honest.

It's better for both of us." I kept my eyes on her face and hit play. ["She told me… marrying you was just a last resort. Her family was breathing down her neck, and you?

You were just the perfect, safe bet."] Spencer's smooth, poisonous voice drifted clearly from the speaker. Eden stood paralyzed.

All the blood drained from her face, leaving her as pale as a corpse. "No… that's not…" she mumbled, her knees buckling slightly. I didn't stop.

I tapped the next file. ["Eden says just looking at your face makes her suffocate.

She said living with you is like drowning in a dead pool of water."] ["Eden told me she envies my lifestyle. Flying all over the world. No strings attached.

She said she wants to run away."] File after file. The words that had hacked at my chest for weeks were now playing out loud, slashing through her, sentence by sentence.

Tremors seized her shoulders. Silent tears spilled over her lashes and tracked down her cheeks. Watching her, I still felt zero vindication. Just pure, twisted absurdity.

Seven years together, and this was how it ended.

Finally, I played the track that broke the camel's back. ["She said the only person she's ever truly loved… is me."] ["She said she's going to divorce you, so we can finally be together."] The playback finished.

A dead silence swallowed the room. Eden slowly lifted her chin. The tears had stopped.

Her eyes held a hollow, chilling emptiness that made my pulse stutter. "So," her voice barely registered above a whisper, "you actually think I said all of this?" "Who else?" I let out a bitter scoff. "Did Spencer just make it all up to screw with me?

Why the hell would he do that?" I swiped to the photo—the one of her sleeping on Spencer's shoulder—and shoved the screen toward her. "Did he photoshop this, too?" Eden stared at the screen.

Her pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks. The gears finally clicked into place. The dead emptiness in her eyes instantly ignited. Not agony. Not despair. Pure rage.

The kind of nuclear fury that burns everything to the ground. "That son of a bitch!" She slammed her palms flat onto the table. The crack echoed like a gunshot.

She wasn't yelling at me. She glared a hole through my phone, the blood vessels in her eyes visibly bursting. "Bullshit!" She swept the ceramic plate off the table.

The sharp shatter ripped through the dead silence of the dining room. She snatched my phone right off the table. Her chest heaved. "Nolan, you are a complete idiot!

A total, absolute fool!" She jabbed her finger right in my face. In seven years, she had never spoken to me like that. I stood there frozen.

This derailed the script I had playing in my head. No sobbing. No begging. No guilty silence.

Just… blinding rage? "Spencer, that sick bastard," she gritted out, chewing on every single syllable like crushed glass. Chapter 7 Then, she did something I never saw coming.

Her fingers clamped around my wrist like a vice. "With me. Now." "Where are we going?" I stumbled, forced to jog just to keep up with her. She didn't answer.

She just dragged me out the front door and shoved us into the elevator.

Her stilettos hammered a rapid, furious beat against the tile floor. "To rip that piece of shit's mouth right off his face." My brain shortcircuited as Eden hauled me through the building.

Her fingers dug into my pulse point like a steel vice, locking me in. Inside the elevator, she didn't say a single word.

She just glared at the digital floor display, radiating a suffocating, murderous heat. I stared at the rigid line of her jaw and the absolute fire in her eyes.

A terrifying thought finally punched through my thick skull.

Maybe… I really had gotten this all wrong. "Eden, are you—" "Shut up," she cut me off, snapping her gaze to mine. "You'll see for yourself in a minute, you absolute moron." The insult shut me right up.

In seven years of marriage, she had never raised her voice at me.

Today, I'd gone from a "fool" straight to an "absolute moron." Down in the parking garage, she shoved me into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. She slammed on the gas.

The car peeled out. I grabbed the seatbelt, watching her deadpan, lethal profile. For the first time, the ice in my chest started to crack. Were those recordings actually fake?

Why the hell would Spencer go to such psychotic lengths? A hundred different questions bounced around my skull, but I couldn't piece together a single answer.

The car tore through downtown traffic before screeching to a halt outside a luxury highrise apartment complex. Eden killed the engine.

She slowly turned her head. "Nolan, I'm only going to ask you this once." Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "Do you believe him, or do you believe me?" I stared into her eyes.

The rage was still there, backed by a raw sense of betrayal and a ruthless edge I had never seen before. My resolve shattered.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I… I don't know." A hollow laugh scraped past her lips. The disappointment in her eyes hit me like a physical blow. "Right.

Perfect." She nodded. "Then today, I'm going to show you exactly what kind of monster you put your faith in." She unbuckled her seatbelt and shoved the door open.

I scrambled out of the car and followed her. She marched straight up to the main lobby doors and punched a button on the intercom.

Seconds later, Spencer's polished, cultured voice filtered through the static. "Who is it?" "It's me. Eden." "Eden? What are you doing here?

Hang on, I'll buzz you right in." He practically beamed through the speaker. The heavy glass door clicked open.

Eden took a sharp, deep breath, grabbed my arm, and dragged me inside. Inside the elevator, she unlocked my phone.

She synced my Bluetooth earbuds to the device and queued up every single one of those audio files. I had no idea what her play was. The elevator dinged at the eighteenth floor.

Spencer's front door sat slightly ajar, deliberately cracked open just for her. Eden stopped dead in front of the door. She didn't push it open.

She turned back to me, a heavy, complicated weight settling in her eyes. "Nolan, remember this.

From this second on, I don't owe you a damn thing." She shoved the right earbud into her own ear, and jammed the left one into mine.

Then, she lifted her stiletto and kicked the door wide open. Chapter 8