After searching for a while, Clement turned to glare at my mother and me, his eyes full of suspicion.
"You're trying to keep the lottery ticket for yourselves, aren't you? You've hidden my mom somewhere! Bring her out right now, or I'm calling the police!"
He spoke as though he held the moral high ground, which only made it more infuriating.
I squeezed my mother's hand, offering her silent comfort.
When I looked back at Clement, my gaze was ice cold.
"Just because your own mind is filthy doesn't mean everyone else's is."
I snatched up the divorce papers from nearby, signed my name in one swift stroke, and shoved them hard into his chest.
"Signed. Now get out of my house. Or have you forgotten that my family paid for it?"
I'd never seen it before, but now, looking at this man I'd been married to for three years, I realized I'd never truly known him at all.
There was no telling what schemes he might cook up regarding the house, so I figured I'd remind him preemptively.
Clement had always been obsessed with saving face. At my words, his eyes flickered, but he kept his expression haughty. "Of course I haven't forgotten. This dump? I've been wanting to upgrade for ages!"
He cast a disdainful look around the room. His mouth said one thing, but his feet stayed planted—clearly reluctant to leave.
I grabbed the suitcase I'd already packed for him from beside the sofa and dropped it at his feet. "Your things. Get out."
I don't know where Clement ended up going. My mother and I traveled to the provincial capital together.
The next morning, we collected the prize without any issues.
Mom declined any media coverage, but she did donate ten million dollars to impoverished mountain regions.
Once all the paperwork was done, I finally had a chance to check my phone.
Messages flooded the screen.
Mutual friends of mine and Clement's were all asking what was going on. Everyone knew Clement's mother had won the lottery—they just didn't know how much.
I replied to each of them the same way: "No idea. Clement and I are divorced now."
After responding, I opened Clement's social media feed out of habit.
He'd been showing off nonstop. Luxury hotels. Five-star meals.
A photo from a car dealership, captioned with ridiculous bravado: "Just a little Mercedes. Consider it mine."
I raised an eyebrow, utterly speechless.
The comments were full of mutual friends fawning over him.