Even her engagement ring had to be returned since it was a conditional gift based on a marriage that was no longer applicable. She called Mrs. Cole, her lawyer, to confirm what she was reading. I’m sorry, Amanda. Austin’s lawyer was very aggressive about this settlement. Since most assets were acquired before marriage and you signed a prenup, our options were limited.
I signed a prenup. The document you signed before your wedding that waved your rights to spousal property. Don’t you remember? She had a vague memory of Austin bringing her a stack of papers the week before their wedding, telling her it was just insurance paperwork and wedding venue contracts. She’d been so overwhelmed with wedding planning that she’d signed everything he put in front of her without reading carefully.
I thought that was insurance paperwork. I’m afraid it was a very comprehensive prenuptual agreement. Austin’s lawyer probably advised him to have you sign it along with other documents so you wouldn’t realize what it was. Austin had tricked her into signing away her rights to their marital assets before they’d even gotten married.
He’d been planning his exit strategy from day one. That afternoon, she started looking for apartments she could afford on her nonprofit salary. The only places in her price range were studio apartments in rough neighborhoods or shared housing situations with strangers. She was about to become a 31-year-old divorced woman living in a studio apartment with a futon and whatever belongings Austin decided she could keep.
The moving truck Austin hired arrived the following week to collect his furniture. She watched three men carry out the dining room set they’d picked out together, the couch where they’d watched movies, the bed where they’d tried so desperately to conceive a child. They left her with her clothes, her books, and a folding chair Austin had forgotten about in the garage.
She spent her last night in that house, sitting on the floor of what used to be their bedroom, eating takeout food and wondering how her life had become such a complete disaster. 8 years with Austin and she was leaving with less than she’d had when she met him. But the worst was yet to come. 2 days before Austin’s baby shower, she ran into Cynthia at the grocery store.
She was glowing with that first trimester pregnancy radiance, her hand resting protectively on her still flat stomach as she examined prenatal vitamins. “Amanda,” she said when she saw her, her voice dripping with fake concern. “How are you doing?” Austin said, “You’ve been having a really hard time with everything.
” Amanda stared at this woman who’d stolen her husband and was now carrying the baby she’d spent 3 years failing to conceive. She was younger than her, prettier than her, and apparently more fertile than her. Everything she’d failed to be. “I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Good. I’m so glad to hear that.” Austin’s been so worried about you.
