Pregnancy is meant to be a beautiful journey—mine was anything but.

Before, Arnie treated me like royalty. But once I became pregnant, he changed. The man who once kissed my forehead now rolled his eyes at my swollen feet and growing belly. He mocked my clothes, ignored my pain, and eventually, came home reeking of someone else’s perfume.

When I confronted him, he smirked and introduced “Stacy”—his new girlfriend—then handed me divorce papers, saying he wanted nothing to do with me or our child.

I signed without hesitation.

What he didn’t know? Stacy was working for me.

By the time I gave birth to Riley, I had the house, the finances—everything. He’d signed it all over in his arrogance.

When he came crawling back, yelling in the street after Stacy left him, I simply smiled.

“You handed me everything, Arnie,” I said. “I’m thriving, and you’re nothing.”

I shut the door behind me, holding Riley close.

We were finally free.