---- Chapter 5 Almeda Hughes POV: Hector let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You're divorcing me because of a dog? After everything I've given you? This house, this life... you'd throw it all away for an animal?" "That animal," | said, my voice dangerously quiet, "was more of a family to me than you or your son ever were." Jacob, who had been watching from the porch, burst into tears. "She doesn't love us, Daddy! She only loves that stupid dog!" "See what you've done?" Hector snapped, his flicker of regret replaced by his usual cold anger. "You always have to be the center of attention. Always causing problems." Helene glided to his side, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Hector, darling, don't be angry. She's just overwrought. Almeda, we all know you're attached to the dog, but Jacob's safety comes first. Surely you can understand that." Her condescending tone was like gasoline on the embers of my grief. | didn't even look at her. My entire focus was on Hector and the papers in Gladys's trembling hand. "Hector," | said, my voice flat and final. "Sign the papers." ---- "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "You'll cool down. You'll come to your senses. You have nowhere else to go. You are nothing without my name." "| was someone long before | met you," | said, the words tasting of freedom. "And I'll be someone long after you're gone from my life." Gladys stepped forward, her face etched with sorrow. "Hector, she's serious. | prepared these papers weeks ago, just in case. The terms are exactly as stipulated in your prenuptial agreement." Hector' s eyes widened in disbelief. He looked from me to Gladys, a dawning realization on his face that this was not a tantrum. This was an exodus. "You want to leave?" he said, his voice taking on a menacing edge. "Fine. But don't think for a second you're getting a single cent more than what that paper says. You will walk out of here with nothing." | almost smiled. He thought | cared about his money. He truly had no idea who | was. "Just sign it," | repeated, my patience gone. His pride, the immense, unshakeable ego of Hector Porter, was clearly stung. To be left, not for another man, but for a dead dog, was an insult he couldn't stomach. "Fine," he spat, snatching the papers and a pen from Gladys. ---- He scribbled his signature with a furious flourish. "Now get out of my sight. And | hope you live to regret this day for the rest of your miserable life." "The only thing | regret," | said, my voice clear and steady for everyone to hear, "is every second | wasted trying to earn the love of a man who is incapable of it, and a child who mirrors his cruelty." Jacob gasped. Helene shot me a look of pure hatred. | didn't care. | gently laid Buddy' s head on the grass and stood up. | walked over to Gladys, took the signed papers, and folded them carefully. "Thank you, Gladys," | murmured. "For everything." "I'm so sorry, Almeda," she whispered, her eyes full of tears. "| never wanted this for you." "| know," | said. And | did. | turned to leave, but Jacob blocked my path. "You're not my mommy anymore! And you can't leave! Who will make my lunch?" The question, so mundane and yet so revealing, hung in the air. For six years, my value had been reduced to a series of domestic tasks. | was a cook, a chauffeur, a glorified nanny. And now that | was leaving, his first thought was of his own convenience. ---- | looked down at him, my heart a frozen stone. "Helene will make your lunch now," | said. Then, | walked away. | walked past the manicured gardens, past the ridiculously expensive cars, past the life that had almost smothered me. | didn't look back. | walked to my own car, parked outside the gates, and got in. As | drove away, | saw Hector in my rearview mirror, standing motionless on the lawn. For a fleeting moment, he didn't look angry or powerful. He just looked... lost. It didn't matter. | drove until the grand estate was just a speck in the distance. And as the miles stretched between me and that life, | didn't feel sadness or regret. | felt the first, fragile tendrils of peace. | was Almeda Hughes again. And for the first time in six years, | was going home. My last act before leaving that neighborhood was to call a pet cremation service. | gave them the address and instructions. | would bring Buddy home with me, one way or another.