On the first day of our marriage, my husband threw a greasy dishcloth in my face and said, “From now on, you’re my family’s maid.” I smiled, left my wedding ring on the table, and walked out with my suitcase.

I brought her and my cousin Marcus.

Mason arrived with Carol, Dean, and a family attorney named Howard.

Mason looked polished again.

Expensive jacket.

Perfect hair.

Cold smile.

For a moment, I saw the man from our engagement pictures.

Then he spoke.

“You have one chance to fix this.”

There he was.

Howard slid a document across the table.

Mason wanted the full $450,000 his parents had contributed.

Half the wedding expenses.

And a written public apology for “abandoning the marriage under false pretenses.”

I stared at the page.

“You’re serious.”

“You married me and left the next morning with hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Mason said. “What do you think that looks like?”

Rachel opened her folder.

“Like a woman leaving a hostile residence with funds legally held in an account bearing her name.”

Carol scoffed.

“That money was for their marriage.”

Rachel nodded.

“And unless you can establish that it was conditional, that issue can be litigated.”