A waiter approached Vanessa’s table and asked politely,
“Would you like anything else?”
With a faint smile and a sparkle of amusement in her eyes, Vanessa looked up.
“Yes, actually,” she replied. “Please bring me the bill for that table over there. I want to give them a little gift.”
The waiter blinked in surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“That man in the burgundy jacket is my husband,” Vanessa explained calmly. “I’d like to pay for their meal, but please don’t say who it’s from.”
The young waiter nodded, still a bit taken aback. Vanessa pulled out her credit card — the very one Isabelle had gifted her on her last birthday with the words, ‘Treat yourself, my dear.’ Well, today she was doing just that. Treating herself… to a fresh start.
After settling the bill, Vanessa stood and casually walked past her husband’s table. Isabelle was completely absorbed in his companion, oblivious to Vanessa’s presence. Or perhaps deliberately ignoring it? Vanessa allowed herself a small, knowing smile. How many times had she done the same — refused to see what was plain as day?
Stepping outside, she breathed in the crisp evening air deeply. One thought echoed in her mind: “Well, Isabelle, you made your choice. Now it’s my turn.”
Back at home, Vanessa slipped off her shoes and entered her study. Surprisingly, her hands were steady now. Inside her chest, a calm she hadn’t felt in years settled, like the fever breaking after a long illness.
“So, where do we begin?” she asked quietly, facing her reflection in the mirror.
Opening her laptop, she created a new folder labeled “New Life.” Something told her the coming weeks would be transformative. She dug out an old box from the closet — the one Isabelle had never cared to open.
“It pays to be thorough,” she whispered, sorting through the papers.
The house documents were exactly where she had left them years ago. The house — her sanctuary — purchased with the money from selling her grandmother’s apartment. Back then, Isabelle was just launching his business and kept insisting:
“Vanessa, you know all the money needs to go into the company now. I’ll make it up to you later.”
She understood, always did. That’s why she had registered the house in her name, just in case. Isabelle never questioned the details; he trusted her completely with what he called “all this paperwork nonsense.”
Next, she logged into the bank account, carefully reviewing the transactions. Thanks to her habit of tracking every penny, she knew exactly which funds were hers.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Isabelle:
“Running late at an important meeting. Don’t wait up for dinner.”
Vanessa smiled to herself:
“Important meeting, huh? Yes, dear, I saw just how important it was.”
She called her lawyer, Maddy Steward:
“Good evening, Maddy. Sorry for the late call. Can we meet at ten tomorrow? Let’s keep it outside the office — at the ‘Swallow’ café. It’s a delicate matter.”
After the call, Vanessa gazed out at the city lights twinkling in the dark, the same lights she had seen at the restaurant. But now, instead of romance, they seemed to signal change — big change.
The next morning, the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. Isabelle, who’d come home after midnight, was still asleep. Vanessa, however, was already reviewing her notes. For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she appreciated the habit of writing down every detail.
“Good morning, dear,” she greeted him as he entered. “How was the meeting yesterday?”
Isabelle froze briefly but quickly recovered.
“Productive. We talked about a new contract.”
“Oh? What kind of contract?” Vanessa asked, watching his face closely.
“Why do you ask?” His voice sounded casual, but a slight twitch of his eyebrow betrayed him.
“No reason, just curious about your affairs,” she smiled and stood up. “I have a meeting now.”
“A meeting? With whom?” His voice took on a sharp edge.
“With the future,” she answered cryptically, leaving the kitchen behind.
The café was cozy and dimly lit, filled with the scent of fresh pastries. Maddy Steward was already seated in the corner.
“Vanessa Alexander,” the lawyer said, placing his order, “I must say, your call caught me off guard.”
“Lately, I find myself surprised a lot,” she replied, pulling out the folder. “Tell me — how fast can a divorce be finalized if one party owns most of the shared assets?”
Maddy nearly choked on his coffee.
“Excuse me?”
“You do know the house is in my name, don’t you? And most of the funds in the accounts belong to me. I want to understand my rights.”
For two hours, they poured over every paper and bank statement. Maddy grew more impressed by Vanessa’s foresight.
“Usually, people act on emotion in these cases,” he said. “You’re remarkably prepared.”
“I’m not here to be emotional,” Vanessa said, carefully organizing the documents. “I want to give a very special gift.”
After the meeting, Vanessa headed to the bank. She spent nearly three hours there, and the manager looked at her with clear admiration. Few clients knew exactly what they wanted like she did.
“So,” Vanessa summarized, “close the main account, transfer the funds to a new one solely in my name, and block the cards.”
“And your husband?” the manager asked carefully.
“He’ll keep his salary card. Thirty thousand a month is enough for… important meetings.”
Walking out, Vanessa felt a light dizziness — not from fear, but from newfound freedom.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was their accountant.
“Vanessa Alexander, an offer came in for your share of the company. The price is very attractive.”
“Excellent, Anna Sergeevna. Prepare the paperwork. And let’s keep Isabelle in the dark for now. I have a surprise for him.”
Next, Vanessa visited a travel agency. Smiling at the consultant, she said:
“Hello. I want a trip to Italy. The Tuscan countryside, two weeks, the most beautiful spots.”
“For two?” the agent asked, assuming.
“No,” Vanessa shook her head. “Just me. And the sooner, the better.”
That evening, she came home to find Isabelle agitated.
“Vanessa, do you know why our joint cards are blocked?”
“Really?” she feigned surprise. “Must be a system error. We’ll check tomorrow.”
“But I needed to pay for…”
“For what, dear?” Her voice was sweet as honey. “Dinner, perhaps? How did you like the Bellagio? I hear the food is exquisite there.”
Isabelle’s face went pale.
“You… you were there?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Vanessa said, patting his shoulder. “I even paid the bill. Consider it… a gift in advance.”
Their twentieth anniversary dawned bright and clear.
Vanessa woke early, dressed in her favorite black dress, and styled her hair with care. On the kitchen table sat breakfast and a neatly wrapped folder tied with a golden ribbon.
Isabelle came down holding a bouquet.
“Happy anniversary, my dear! I reserved a table at—”
“At the Bellagio?” Vanessa interrupted. “No need. I have a special gift for you.”
She handed him the folder.
Isabelle untied the bow and pulled out the papers. His face drained of color with each document.
“What is this?” he shouted, voice trembling with rage. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, dear,” Vanessa replied calmly, sipping her coffee. “For the first time in twenty years, I’m thinking clearly.”
“The divorce papers, confirmation of sole ownership of the house, and — oh yes — the restaurant bill. I thought it fair I pay for our last dinner together.”
“You can’t do this!” Isabelle yelled, knocking over a chair. “This is my business! My house!”
“Yours?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Look closely at the papers. And yes, I’ve sold my company shares. Very lucratively, I might add.”
“You’re just seeking revenge!” he wailed, clutching his head. “All because of some meaningless flirtation…”
“No, dear. I’m giving you a gift — freedom. Now you can be with Natalya openly. By the way, tell her those earrings suit her perfectly. I picked them out last Christmas.”
Vanessa stood and picked up the suitcase she’d packed earlier.
“You always said women were too emotional. I chose not to make a scene. I’m just grateful you opened my eyes.”
“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, stunned.
“To Tuscany. Remember? It’s been my dream for years. Now I’m finally indulging it.”
At the door, she glanced back.
“You know what’s most remarkable? I’m thankful to you. If not for your little ‘meeting,’ I’d never have found the courage to change my life.”
A taxi waited outside. As she climbed in, Vanessa looked once more at the house she’d called home for so long. No sadness, no regrets. Only lightness and hope for what’s to come.
“To the airport?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” Vanessa smiled. “To a new beginning.”
The plane took off on time. Watching the city shrink beneath her, she read a text from Isabelle: “We can talk about everything. Come back!”
“No, dear,” she whispered, deleting the message. “My life belongs to me now — the best gift I could ever give myself.”