In court, my wife, the CEO, called me a gold digger.
Her lawyer — also her new boyfriend — nodded in agreement.
Then the judge said,
“So an annual income of $550,000 is still considered gold digging, huh?”
“What? How much?” she gasped.
Then her mouth began to stutter…
The courtroom was quiet enough to hear my wife’s heels echo as she walked to the stand. Claire Bennett—CEO, media darling, and, until eight months ago, my wife—looked perfectly composed. Designer suit. Confident posture. The image she had spent years building.
She didn’t look at me.
Her lawyer stood beside her, hand resting lightly on the table. Ethan Moore. Former associate at her firm. Current boyfriend. Everyone in the room knew it, even if no one said it out loud.
When it was her turn to speak, Claire didn’t hesitate.
“He married me for money,” she said, her voice sharp and practiced. “He’s a gold digger.”
Ethan nodded, as if the conclusion were obvious.
“My client carried him financially throughout the marriage,” he added. “He contributed nothing of comparable value.”
I sat still. No reaction. Years of marriage had taught me that interrupting Claire only made things worse.
We had been together for twelve years. I met her when she was a junior executive with ambition and no weekends. I handled the house, the logistics, the unglamorous parts of life so she could work sixteen-hour days. I moved cities twice for her career. I paused my own consulting work when her board demanded “full availability” from their rising star.
None of that mattered now.
Claire crossed her arms. “He lived off my success,” she continued. “And now he wants more.”
Ethan smiled faintly, like this case was already over.
That’s when the judge leaned forward. Judge Harrison was in his late sixties, with the tired eyes of someone who had heard every version of every lie. He flipped through the file slowly.
“So,” he said calmly, “let me make sure I understand.”
He looked directly at Claire.
“You’re claiming Mr. Bennett is a gold digger.”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
The judge adjusted his glasses.
“Because according to these records, his average annual income during the marriage was approximately five hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
The room froze.
Claire’s head snapped up.
“What?” she gasped. “How much?”
Her confidence cracked instantly. Her mouth opened again, but no sound came out—just a stutter, like her thoughts had collided.
And for the first time that day, she finally looked at me….
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t expected that number. Neither had Claire.
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t expected that number. Neither had Claire.
Judge Harrison tapped the document. “Consulting fees, retained earnings, deferred compensation. It’s all here.” He glanced at me. “Mr. Bennett, you chose not to disclose this earlier?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I replied. “Because I wasn’t accusing anyone. I was defending myself.”
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