My husband Spencer handed me a formal divorce settlement of fifty million dollars alongside the heartbreaking announcement that his young assistant Brielle was heavily pregnant with his twin boys. We sat in our massive Manhattan townhouse under the watchful eye of his mother Rosalind who coldly reminded me that I had failed to produce a legitimate heir for their prestigious legacy. For six long years I endured exhausting fertility treatments and a devastating miscarriage completely alone while my husband cowardly avoided the medical reality that his own genetic condition contributed to our tragic loss. Rather than fight his incredibly wealthy and manipulative family I silently signed the legal separation documents left my wedding ring on the dining table and walked out the front door with my suitcases already packed. I took a direct overnight flight to California to start my life completely over and was warmly greeted at the busy airport by my old college friend Theo who had apparently been patiently waiting fifteen years for me to finally choose myself.
