My husband asked for a divorce. He said, “I want the house, the cars, everything—except

Everyone in the courtroom seemed to lean in a little closer as the tension thickened. Daniel’s lawyer, a sharp and meticulous woman named Patricia, shuffled her papers, her eyes scanning the lines with increasing urgency. I knew what she was reading—something Daniel had overlooked in his eagerness to claim his perceived victory.

The addendum was my ace in the hole, the clause I had quietly insisted on inserting at the last minute. Margaret, initially puzzled by my insistence, had helped me draft it. It was simple, really, a single paragraph that changed everything.

Patricia cleared her throat, attempting to maintain her composure. “Mr. Harris,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady, “it appears there is a stipulation regarding the trust fund for Ethan’s education.”

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