After the inheritance, my husband kicked me out — “I don’t need you anymore. I’m rich now.”
As soon as my husband found out he was coming into an inheritance, he announced, “Pack your bags. I’m a rich man now.” He pushed me out the door of our tiny apartment on the South Side of Chicago and filed for divorce.
I signed everything calmly. I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I just signed.
But the moment the lawyer read the will, that same man dropped to his knees in front of me.
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This is the story of Kaziah Vance.
Kaziah woke up to the sound of her alarm at 5:30 a.m. It was still pitch-black outside over Chicago. Only the streetlights cast a dim glow over the snow-covered courtyard behind their old brick building.
She stretched, trying not to wake Tavarius, and carefully slipped out from under the quilt. The cold immediately stung her bare feet. The radiators in their drafty two-bedroom apartment on the South Side were barely putting out any heat.
In the bathroom, Kaziah looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Thirty-two years old, but she looked every bit of forty. Dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer could hide anymore. The first fine lines around her mouth. Hair that desperately needed a touch-up and a fresh braid. But she had neither the time nor the money for the salon.
She ran a hand over her face, splashed it with ice-cold water, and started getting ready for work.
“You up early again?”
Tavarius’s grumpy voice drifted from the bedroom.
“I have to be at work by eight, Tav,” Kaziah answered softly, pulling on an old plaid sweater. “Go back to sleep.”
“How am I supposed to rest with you making all that racket at the crack of dawn?” he grumbled, turning his face to the wall.
Kaziah bit her lip.
Back in the day, five years ago when they first moved in together, Tavarius used to wake up with her. He’d send her off with a kiss, tell her she was the finest woman in the world. He’d brew her coffee while she got ready, kiss the top of her head, and promise to have dinner ready by the time she got home.
But now, every move she made just seemed to get on his nerves.
In the small kitchen, she quickly made instant coffee and ate a slice of toast with cheese while standing by the windowsill. There was never time for a proper breakfast.
By seven a.m., she was already walking out the door into the cold Chicago morning to catch the bus to the community health clinic where she worked as a front desk administrator.
The job was tedious and monotonous—answering phones, scheduling patients, dealing with insurance complaints and attitudes. The pay wasn’t much, about $2,800 a month, but it was steady. And right now, it was the only real money coming into the household.
Tavarius worked… well, Kaziah didn’t even know what to call it.
He had been trying to launch his own “empire” for three years now. First it was an online supplement store. Then a consulting agency. Then a computer repair service. Nothing ever stuck.
The money they tried to save for a vacation, for a new fridge, for renovations—it all went into his next big project. And there were never any results. The most he brought in was maybe five or six hundred dollars a month, and that wasn’t even every month.
“I’m building a future,” he would say every time Kaziah timidly asked if maybe he should get a regular nine-to-five just temporarily.
“You just don’t understand how business works, Kaziah. You gotta invest. You gotta have patience. Look at Jay-Z. Look at the big moguls. They all took risks.”
And Kaziah endured.
She took on a second job in the evenings. After the clinic, she did remote bookkeeping for small businesses. She sat at the computer until midnight, checking other people’s invoices and balancing ledgers just to make ends meet—to pay the rent, the light bill, the internet, to buy groceries, to make sure Tavarius had capital for his next genius idea.
That gig brought in another $1,500 to $2,000 depending on the client load, sometimes more if she was lucky.
That morning the bus was late, and Kaziah barely made it to the start of her shift.
The whole day flew by in a blur of chaos: endless ringing phones, upset patients, demanding doctors. By lunch, she had a splitting headache, but it was still too early to go home. After work she had to stop by the grocery store, pick up food for dinner, and then sit down at the computer. She had a rush order pending—a financial report due by tomorrow evening.
She got home around nine p.m. Her arms ached from the heavy grocery bags. Her feet were throbbing after being on them all day.
Tavarius was sitting on the sofa with his laptop, scrolling through something intently. In the kitchen, dirty dishes from lunch were piled in the sink. Crumbs were scattered on the table along with an empty tea mug and a torn-open package of cookies.
Kaziah silently took off her coat, went into the kitchen, and started washing the dishes.
“Kez, you could at least take a breath first,” Tavarius threw out without looking up from his screen. “You always doing too much.”
“If I don’t wash them, who will?” she answered wearily, soaping up a plate.
“Man, whatever. Ideally, you wash them later. The house ain’t gonna crumble in one night.”
Kaziah didn’t answer. It was useless.
They used to cook dinner together, clean up together, make plans for the weekend together. He used to spend entire Saturdays helping her reorganize the closet or paint the walls.
Now she felt like a maid in her own home.
She finished the dishes, wiped the table, put the groceries in the fridge, then heated up some leftover soup for herself and sat down.
Tavarius walked into the kitchen, poured himself some tea from the kettle she had boiled that morning, grabbed an apple from the bowl, and went back to the sofa.
“Tav, let’s go somewhere this Sunday,” Kaziah suggested cautiously, finishing her soup. “Maybe just a walk in Millennium Park or down by the lake. We haven’t gone anywhere together in a long time. Must be three months now.”
“Kez, my mind is on business.” He waved her off, eyes glued to the screen. “I ain’t got time for strolls right now. Don’t you get that? I’m in a crucial phase. I’m on the verge of a major breakthrough. Dion found an investor who’s ready to put money into our project. I gotta prep the pitch deck, the business plan—and here you are talking about walks.”
Kaziah fell silent.
A major breakthrough. She had heard those words hundreds of times over the last three years. The breakthrough never came. Just another investor, another project, another set of promises.
She finished her soup, washed her bowl, and went to the computer. She had to finish reports for two clients by morning.
She sat at the desk in the corner of their tiny bedroom, turned on the lamp, and buried herself in numbers. Through the wall, the TV was blaring. Tavarius had put the game on. Every now and then, he’d shout something, commenting on the play.
That was how her days went. Day after day, week after week, month after month: work, home, work, home.
She had forgotten the last time she bought something new for herself. Her jeans were worn thin at the knees. Her boots desperately needed repair—the sole was peeling off, and her feet got wet in the slush. But there wasn’t enough money for a new winter coat.
Last month, Tavarius had asked for $1,000 for equipment for his latest venture, and she couldn’t say no.
And Kaziah noticed how Tavarius had changed.
He started looking at her with a certain disdain, as if she were a burden, an obstacle, something stopping him from being “successful.”
“You should really join a gym,” he said one evening while she was changing for bed. “You really let yourself go. Look at you.”
Kaziah froze, her T-shirt in her hands. She stood there in her old bra and the sweatpants she wore around the house, looking at him, not believing her ears.
“Tav, I’m just tired,” she said quietly. “I don’t have time for the gym. I work from eight in the morning until midnight.”
“Excuses,” he dismissed, scrolling through his phone. “Everybody finds time if they want to. Look at Shanice, Dion’s wife. She keeps herself sharp. Gym, nails done, always looking good. And you… you know what I mean.”
He didn’t finish, but Kaziah understood perfectly.
She got into bed, turned toward the wall, and clenched her fists under the covers. Tears pricked her throat, but she held them back. She wasn’t going to cry. She was just tired. That was all.
Tomorrow was a new day. New work, new worries. Tears wouldn’t change a thing.
A week later, it was a similar situation.
They were in the kitchen. Kaziah was making dinner, frying burger patties and boiling potatoes. Tavarius was scrolling through some site on his tablet.
“You know, Kez, real wives create an environment for their husbands to succeed,” he said suddenly. “Take Marcus’s wife. She doesn’t work at all. She stays home, cooks, cleans, and he handles the business in peace. Marcus has his own firm that actually makes money.”
“What are we supposed to live on if I don’t work?” Kaziah replied wearily, flipping a patty.
“See, that’s exactly why nothing works out for me,” Tavarius flared up. “Because I gotta think about bills, about you being tired from work, about you being miserable. I can’t focus.”
“Tavarius, what—”
“If you were bringing in real money, I could focus on development. But instead it’s always ‘we don’t have enough.’ Always penny-pinching. How am I supposed to think big when you’re counting every dime?”
Kaziah turned off the stove. The patties were done. She silently transferred them to a plate and set it on the table.
Tavarius took one, took a bite.
“Too much salt,” he grumbled.
She tasted it. The salt was fine.
He was just picking fights because he was angry. Because he blamed her for his failures. Because she was the easiest target.
Winter passed and spring arrived over the city.
Kaziah continued working two jobs, continued carrying the weight of everything on her shoulders. Tavarius grew colder and more distant. Sometimes he didn’t come home at night at all, claiming he was staying at his boy Dion’s place to discuss business plans until late, so it was easier to just crash there.
Kaziah didn’t ask questions. She was afraid to hear the truth. Afraid to find out that maybe there was someone else, that he was only living with her out of habit, out of convenience—a free apartment, hot dinner, clean laundry.
And then something happened that turned everything upside down.
It was an ordinary Tuesday evening in May.
Kaziah had just gotten back from work, put a pot of rice on the stove, and started chopping vegetables for a salad.
Tavarius was sitting in his usual spot on the sofa, but this time he wasn’t looking at his laptop. He was on the phone. He was speaking quietly, but there was a strange excitement in his voice.
“Yeah, I got it,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I’ll definitely be there tomorrow. What time? Eleven a.m. Okay, I’ll be there. Thanks for letting me know.”
He hung up and sat motionless for a few seconds, staring at a spot on the wall.
Then he jumped up abruptly and paced around the room, rubbing his hands together.
“What happened?” Kaziah asked, looking out from the kitchen, knife in hand.
Tavarius turned around. A strange smile was playing on his lips. Not sad, not mournful—but greedy.
“Granddaddy died,” he said.
Kaziah flinched. The knife almost slipped from her hand.
Tavarius’s grandfather, Eustace Vance, was very old. He was pushing ninety, if she remembered correctly. They had only seen him a couple of times in all their years together. The old man lived in Indianapolis, about a three-hour drive from Chicago. He barely communicated with relatives.
But still—death.
“Tav, I’m so sorry,” she began, wiping her hands on a towel and walking closer. “How did it happen? Was he sick?”
“Sorry,” Tavarius chuckled strangely, and there wasn’t a drop of sorrow in that sound. “Yeah, sure, it’s sad. He was eighty-eight. But that’s not the main thing. The lawyer called. Turns out Granddaddy left a will, and I’m named in it.”
Kaziah blinked, not immediately catching his drift.
“A will?”
“Yes.” Tavarius clenched his fists, his eyes shining with a feverish glint. “He left an inheritance. That means there’s something there. He definitely had an apartment—I remember a three-bedroom downtown. Maybe something else, maybe property, maybe money in accounts. I’m going to the lawyer tomorrow to find out everything.”
He started pacing the room, rubbing his palms together like a merchant who had just closed a lucrative deal.
“Finally. Finally, I get a break. You understand, Kez? It’s destiny. It’s a sign from above. I told you everything would work out for me. That we just had to wait.”
Kaziah stood there watching him.
Something inside her shrank and stung painfully.
This was how he reacted to his grandfather’s death—not with grief, not with sadness, but with joy over a potential payout. His own flesh and blood had just died, and he was celebrating money.
“Maybe we should organize the funeral first,” she said gently. “Send him off properly.”
“Auntie Vernice will handle that.” Tavarius waved her off. “She lives near him in Indy. They talked all their lives. Let her handle it. I need to handle the inheritance. The lawyer said the reading of the will is the day after tomorrow. I need to be there at eleven a.m.”
He was wired all evening. He couldn’t sit still, pacing from corner to corner, calling friends, sharing the news.
He told everyone the same thing:
“Granddaddy passed, left a will. I’m finna be rich.”
The rice on the stove boiled over. The water evaporated and it started to burn. Kaziah turned off the gas, threw the contents of the pot in the trash, and just went to the bedroom.
She didn’t want dinner. There was a lump in her throat and her chest felt heavy and empty.
That night she couldn’t sleep for a long time.
She lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to Tavarius in the next room, excitedly discussing things on the phone with yet another friend, thinking about how everything had changed.
When she fell in love with him five years ago, he was different—kind, attentive, caring.
They met at a mutual friend’s birthday party in Chicago, and he seemed so sincere, so open back then. They dated for a year, and it was the happiest year of her life. He brought her flowers for no reason, took her to the movies, made her breakfast. They dreamed together about a family, about kids, about a house they would buy somewhere in a quiet American neighborhood.
And then they moved in together—and it was like something broke.
At first it was subtle, little things. Then more and more. He became colder. She became quieter. He became more demanding. She became more submissive.
And now, five years later, she lay in the dark, realizing she didn’t even know who this person next to her was anymore.
For the next two days, Tavarius was on pins and needles.
He was constantly calculating things on a calculator, googling real estate prices in Indianapolis, looking at condo listings, estimating how much a three-bedroom downtown might be worth. He made plans out loud.
“I’m finally gonna buy a real car. Not this bucket. I’ll open a real office in a prime location. We’ll go to the ocean… no, better yet, Europe. I always wanted to see Paris.”
“Tav, don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Kaziah tried to ground him at dinner. “You don’t even know exactly what’s in the will yet.”
“I know what’s gonna be in it,” he interrupted arrogantly, waving his fork. “I’m the only grandson. Granddaddy has no other direct heirs. Auntie Vernice is his wife’s sister, not even blood-related. That means everything goes to me. It’s only logical.”
He took a sip of tea and looked at her with an appraising gaze, the kind usually reserved for an object you’re deciding whether to keep or throw away.
“You know, Kez, maybe it really is time you thought about your appearance,” he said suddenly. “When I get this money, I’m gonna need a wife who matches the status. Look at you. You dress like you’re digging in the bargain bin at the thrift store. Hair undone. No manicure. I’d be embarrassed to take you anywhere decent.”
Kaziah felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Her hands started to tremble. She put her cup on the table, afraid she might drop it.
“I dress like this because we don’t have enough money,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I put every dime toward our bills and your projects.”
“See, there you go again,” Tavarius grimaced. “Always with the guilt trips. It ain’t my fault you don’t know how to budget or save. Plenty of women figure out how to look good and keep the house running.”
Kaziah opened her mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in her throat.
Tavarius had already gotten up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, not even clearing his plate.
She remained sitting alone, staring at the unfinished tea and the remnants of dinner, feeling something inside her finally, irrevocably break.
She walked to the mirror in the hallway and looked at herself for a long time.
Truly, she didn’t look great: an old sweater with lint balls, faded jeans she’d been wearing for three years, messy hair with new growth showing, a tired face with deep shadows under the eyes.
But was that her fault?
She was grinding at two jobs so he could play businessman. She denied herself everything just so they could survive—bought the cheapest brands, pinched every penny, and this was how he thanked her: telling her he was ashamed of her, that she didn’t match his “status.”
Kaziah slowly went back to the kitchen and sat at the table. Her hands were still shaking. She poured herself some water from the pitcher and took a few sips, trying to calm down.
She needed to get a grip.
Maybe it was just the stress before the inheritance. Maybe when the dust settled, when the euphoria passed, Tavarius would be his old self again. Maybe it could still be fixed.
But deep down, in the most hidden corner of her soul, she already knew the truth.
Nothing was coming back.
The Tavarius she fell in love with five years ago was gone. And maybe he never existed at all.
The morning of the will reading, Tavarius paced the apartment like a caged animal.
He woke up before Kaziah, which was an event in itself. Usually, he slept until ten or even noon. But today, at 7:30 a.m., he was already standing in front of the mirror, meticulously brushing his waves and critically examining his shirt.
“Does this look okay?” he asked when Kaziah came out of the bedroom. “Should I wear a tie? No, that’s doing too much. It’s not a job interview. Although… it is an important meeting. Maybe a tie after all.”
Kaziah looked at him.
He was wearing his best shirt, a crisp white one they’d bought two years ago for a holiday. His slacks were decent, too—black, pressed. He had shined his dress shoes until they gleamed.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “You look good.”
“Of course I look good,” he mumbled, turning side to side in front of the mirror. “Today is a big day. Today I find out how much I got.”
He didn’t eat breakfast—just downed coffee, practically burning his mouth. He was nervous, though he tried not to show it. He kept glancing at his watch, checking his phone, then looking at his watch again.
“What time do you need to leave?” Kaziah asked, pouring herself tea.
“By eleven, but I’m leaving early to make sure I’m on time. Probably ten or nine-thirty, just in case of traffic.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” she offered cautiously. “For support?”
Tavarius whipped around and looked at her as if she had suggested something obscene.
“For what?” he snapped. “This is Vance family business. You got nothing to do with it.”
Kaziah sipped her tea, feeling the hot liquid burn her throat.
Family business.
That meant she wasn’t family, even though they had lived together for five years and were legally married in the United States.
“Okay,” was all she said.
“Yeah, okay. Auntie Vernice is gonna be there with all her preaching. She always knows how to kill a vibe. I don’t need extra stress.”
He checked the mirror one last time, straightened his shirt, and grabbed his jacket.
“I’m out. I’ll be back when I’m back. Might need to go over documents with the lawyer later this evening.”
And he left without even saying goodbye.
The door slammed and Kaziah was left alone in the empty apartment.
She finished her now-cold tea, washed the cup, and got ready for work. The day promised to be long.
At the clinic, time dragged excruciatingly slow.
Kaziah answered calls mechanically, checked patients in, but her mind was far away. She kept thinking about what was happening at the lawyer’s office, what would happen next, how their lives would change if Tavarius actually received a large inheritance.
Would he become kind and attentive again? Or would he finally turn into the arrogant man she had been seeing in recent months?
During her lunch break, she tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. She sent a text: “How’s it going?”
The message showed as read, but there was no reply.
She got home around seven p.m. Tavarius wasn’t there. The apartment greeted her with silence and emptiness.
Kaziah heated up yesterday’s soup, ate, washed the dishes, then sat at the computer. Work didn’t stop. She had to finish a report, but she couldn’t focus. She kept listening for sounds in the hallway, waiting for the door to open.
Tavarius didn’t return until nine-thirty.
Kaziah heard the lock click, heard him walk into the entryway. She got up from the computer and went out to meet him.
“Well?” she asked, trying to read something—anything—on his face.
Tavarius stood in the doorway, a strange smile playing on his lips. Not joyful, not happy, but predatory.
“Everything is excellent,” he said, pulling off his jacket. “Even better than I thought.”
“And?” Kaziah took a step closer. “What happened?”
“An apartment,” Tavarius said, walking into the living room and flopping onto the sofa, leaning back. “Three bedrooms, twelve hundred square feet, right in downtown Indianapolis. A lake house property in the suburbs, a bank account, stocks in some company Granddaddy bought who knows when. The lawyer said, all in all, it’s about two million dollars, maybe more. Need to get an appraiser to count it all up.”
Kaziah sat on the edge of the armchair.
Two million dollars.
That was huge money. The kind she had never even dreamed of.
“Lord have mercy,” she exhaled.
“It’s a whole fortune,” Tavarius finished for her. “I’m rich now, Kez. Finally, that’s it. No more living in this dump. No more counting pennies. I’m buying a luxury condo, a Benz. I’m launching the business I never had the capital for. Everything is changing.”
He was saying “I,” not “we.”
Kaziah noticed, but stayed silent.
“When can you finalize everything?” she asked.
“Lawyer said a week or two. Need to gather some papers, assess the property, but those are formalities. The main thing is, the money is mine.”
He got up from the sofa and walked to the window. He stood there, looking at the evening city, at the lights of the houses.
Then he turned and looked at Kaziah with a long, appraising stare.
“You know, Kez, I got a lot to think about tonight,” he said suddenly, and his voice had a strange, cold edge to it. “So I’m gonna go over to Dion’s, chill with him, talk it over. I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
“But, Tav—”
“That’s it. I’m gone.”
And he left, slamming the door again.
Kaziah remained sitting in the armchair, staring at the empty space where her husband had just stood. And inside her, a cold, sticky feeling of dread began to grow.
For the next two days, Tavarius barely showed up at home.
He came in late at night when Kaziah was already asleep, left early in the morning. They barely spoke. He was immersed in his thoughts, in his plans, and it seemed there was no room for her in those plans.
And then the thing she least expected happened.
It was Sunday around noon.
Kaziah was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, reading the news on her phone. Outside the window, the Chicago spring sun was shining on the courtyard. Tavarius was home, but he had locked himself in the bedroom since morning, doing something on the computer.
Suddenly he came out, determination written all over his face.
“Kaziah, we need to talk,” he said, and his tone made her go cold inside.
“About what?” she asked, slowly putting down her phone.
Tavarius walked into the kitchen, got a glass from the cabinet, poured himself water, drank it in one gulp, then turned to her and said:
“I’ve been thinking. Thinking about a lot of things these past few days, and I realized one thing. You and me—we’re stuck. We’ve been treading water for years, and I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Kaziah stood up from the table, feeling her heart beat faster.
“I mean, I need to move forward, start a new life, and you… you’re an anchor, Kez. You’re dragging me to the bottom.”
“Tavarius, what are you saying?” Her voice trembled.
“I’m saying we need to break up. I want a divorce.”
The words hung in the air and Kaziah couldn’t believe she had heard them.
Divorce.
He wanted a divorce—now, right when he got the money.
“Are you serious?” she squeezed out.
“Dead serious,” Tavarius answered coldly. “I’ve thought it all through. It’s the best decision for both of us. You’ll find someone who suits you, and I’ll start a new life.”
“We’ve lived together for five years,” Kaziah whispered, feeling her legs go weak. “Five years, Tavarius. I supported you all this time. I worked two jobs so you could pursue your projects. I—”
“And I’m grateful for that,” he interrupted indifferently. “Really. But gratitude ain’t love. And love left the building a long time ago. Let’s be real.”
“How can you say that?”
“I’m speaking the truth. We got used to each other, but that doesn’t mean we gotta be together forever. People change. I changed, and I need something else.”
Kaziah sank back onto the chair. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. There was a fog in her head and a pain in her chest so sharp she thought her heart would burst.
“You waited until you got the money,” she said quietly, staring at the floor. “That’s why you didn’t say anything before. You waited.”
Tavarius stayed silent.
And that silence was louder than any words.
“I packed your stuff,” he said finally. “It’s in the hallway. A suitcase and two bags. Everything’s there—clothes, makeup, books. You can pick up the rest later whenever you want.”
Kaziah raised her head and looked at him.
He stood with his arms crossed, looking down at her. And in that look there was no regret, no guilt—only cold, calm indifference.
“You’re kicking me out?” she asked, her voice sounding foreign and broken. “Right now?”
“The sooner the better,” he answered. “No need to drag out the goodbye. That only makes it harder.”
She stood up on trembling legs and walked slowly to the hallway.
Sure enough, there stood her suitcase and two duffel bags. He had actually packed her things. While she was at work yesterday, he had methodically folded her clothes, her personal items, preparing to put her out on the street.
“I prepped the divorce papers,” Tavarius said, following her into the hall.
He picked up some papers from the side table and handed them to her.
“It’s simple. No property claims, mutual consent. You just need to sign. I’ll file it at the county clerk myself. In a month, it’ll be finalized.”
Kaziah took the papers with shaking hands.
Her eyes scanned the lines, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t read. The letters blurred.
“I don’t need you anymore,” Tavarius said, and mocking notes crept into his voice. “I’m rich now. You get it? I’m gonna have a new life—beautiful, successful. And you… you stay in your mediocrity, in your poverty. It suits you.”
He chuckled, looking at her pale face.
“Did you think I was gonna stay with you? Really? You thought I’d want to drag you to the top with me? Look at yourself. You’re a plain Jane, Kaziah. You’re a nobody, and you’ll never be the kind of woman a successful man needs.”
Every word was like a blow.
Kaziah stood and listened as the man she loved, to whom she’d given five years of her life, trampled her, humiliated her, tried to destroy her.
“And as for your ‘sacrifices’”—Tavarius made air quotes with his fingers—“that was your choice. Nobody forced you to work two jobs. You decided that yourself, so don’t come at me with complaints now.”
Kaziah looked at him for a long moment.
And suddenly, something inside snapped.
The pain didn’t go away, but something else settled over it—cold, hard dignity.
“Where do I sign?” she asked in a steady voice.
Tavarius looked confused for a moment. Evidently, he expected tears, begging, hysteria. But Kaziah stood calmly with her back straight, looking at him with a flat, unreadable gaze.
“Right here.” He pointed a finger at a line at the bottom of the page. “And here on the second page.”
Kaziah took the pen he offered and, with a steady hand, signed her name.
Once. Twice.
Done.
Five years of life crossed out with two strokes of a pen.
“Good,” Tavarius said, taking the documents back. “Excellent. Quick and no drama. I always knew you were a smart woman.”
He folded the papers, put them in a folder, then turned to the door and swung it open.
“Well, have a nice life,” he threw out with a smirk. “Or, as they say, good luck finding a new person to take care of you.”
Kaziah silently picked up the suitcase and one bag. They were heavy, but she didn’t even wince.
She stepped over the threshold, then came back for the second bag.
Tavarius stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, watching her with that nasty, self-satisfied smile.
“You know what, Kez?” he said when she grabbed the second bag. “I almost feel sorry for you. You’re a decent woman. Really. Just not on my level. You feel me? I’m playing in the big leagues now.”
Kaziah stopped on the threshold, turned her head, and looked at him.
She looked at this man she once loved for the last time—and realized there was nothing left. No love. Not even hate. Just emptiness.
“Goodbye, Tavarius,” she said quietly and firmly, and walked out without looking back.
Behind her, the door slammed, and she heard his laugh—a nasty, gloating laugh.
He was laughing at her back, enjoying his victory.
Kaziah walked down the stairs carrying the heavy bags and stepped out onto the street.
It was a bright spring day on the South Side. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. Life was going on regardless of anything.
And she stood in the middle of this life with two bags and a suitcase—homeless, husbandless, with a torn heart, but with her head held high.
She took out her phone and dialed her best friend, Tasha.
“Tasha, it’s me,” she said when her friend picked up. “Can I come over? I need a place to crash for a few days. I… I left Tavarius.”
Her voice finally cracked on the last words, but she pulled herself together. Now was not the time to fall apart. Later. Later there would be tears. Later there would be pain. Right now she just needed to get to Tasha’s—to a safe place where she could breathe and figure out what to do next.
“Girl, of course. Come on over,” Tasha’s worried voice came through the receiver. “What happened?”
“You tell me when you get here. I’m waiting for you.”
Kaziah called a Lyft, put her bags in the trunk, and sat in the back seat. And when the car started moving, when the familiar Chicago streets began to float by outside the window, she allowed herself to close her eyes.
Only then, in the darkness behind closed lids, did the first tears roll down.
Tasha met her at the door of her one-bedroom apartment with hot tea and a warm hug.
She didn’t ask unnecessary questions. She just helped carry the things in, sat Kaziah on the couch, and shoved a mug into her hands.
“Drink. Tell me later,” she said, sitting down next to her.
Kaziah told her everything—about the inheritance, about the last few months, about how Tavarius kicked her out today, laughing at her back.
She spoke quietly, without tears, because the tears had run out in the Lyft. Only a hollow emptiness remained inside.
“What a terrible person,” Tasha hissed when Kaziah finished. “What a complete mess of a man, Kez. I always sensed something was off with him. But you loved him, so I kept my mouth shut.”
“I did love him,” Kaziah answered quietly. “But apparently that wasn’t enough.”
The first few days she just existed.
She slept on the pullout couch, went to work, came back, ate something, went back to sleep—mechanically, without thoughts.
Tasha tried to get her to talk, to distract her, but Kaziah only shook her head and retreated into herself.
Her phone was silent.
Tavarius didn’t call, didn’t text, as if she had never existed in his life.
And then, on the fourth day, an unknown number called.
“Kaziah Vance?” a male voice asked when she answered.
She had taken his last name when they married.
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is the High Tower Law Firm,” the man said. “My name is attorney Thaddeus Sterling. I represent the estate of the late Eustace Vance. I need to meet with you regarding an inheritance matter.”
Kaziah was confused.
“But I’m not a relative,” she said. “That’s my ex-husband’s grandfather. We’re divorced. Well… the paperwork is being processed.”
“That is precisely why I need to meet with you urgently,” there was a certain urgency in the man’s voice. “It is very important. Can you come in today, say around three?”
Kaziah looked at her watch. It was eleven a.m. She was just getting ready for work.
“I can come at six, after work,” she said.
“Excellent. We’ll expect you at six. Do you know the address? Twelve hundred South Michigan Avenue, Suite 305.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
All day, Kaziah thought about this call.
Why did she need to go to the lawyer? What could possibly involve her in Tavarius’s grandfather’s inheritance? She barely knew the old man, saw him only twice.
At 6:15 p.m., she stood in front of the office door on South Michigan, hesitated, took a deep breath, and walked in.
In the reception area, a middle-aged woman in a strict suit sat at a desk.
“Good evening. I’m Kaziah Vance. I was called,” she said.
“Go right in. They’re waiting for you,” the woman nodded toward the office door.
Kaziah walked in.
At a large desk sat a man in his fifties with graying hair and an attentive gaze. And on a chair by the window sat an elderly woman in a black dress and a church hat.
Kaziah recognized her.
It was Auntie Vernice, the wife’s sister Tavarius had mentioned.
And standing next to her, against the wall, was Tavarius himself.
He looked pale. His eyes darted between the lawyer and Kaziah. When she entered, he twitched as if he wanted to say something, but stayed silent.
“Miss Vance, please have a seat,” the lawyer said, pointing to the chair opposite him.
She sat down, placing her purse on her lap. Her heart was beating somewhere in her throat.
“My name is Thaddeus Sterling. I am handling the estate of Eustace Vance,” the lawyer began. “I needed to find you urgently because a delicate situation has arisen.”
He opened a folder on the desk and took out several sheets of paper.
“The fact is, the deceased’s will contained a condition which I informed the heir about only in general terms at our first meeting. But now it is necessary to read it in full in the presence of all interested parties.”
Tavarius clenched his fists. Kaziah saw it in her peripheral vision, but tried to look only at the lawyer.
“I will read you the full text of the inheritance clause,” continued attorney Sterling, putting on his glasses.
“Quote: ‘All my property, including the apartment at 8 Central Street, the lake house property in rural Indiana, funds in Chase bank accounts, as well as the stock portfolio, I bequeath to my grandson, Tavarius Vladimir Vance. However, he may receive this inheritance only upon fulfillment of the following condition: at the time of claiming the inheritance, Tavarius Vance must be in a legal marriage with his current spouse, Kaziah Vance, continuously for a period of no less than one year from the moment of my death.”
The lawyer paused and looked over his glasses at Tavarius.
“Furthermore,” he continued, “in the event that the marriage is dissolved before the expiration of said term, or if at the time of my death, Tavarius Vance is not married to Kaziah Vance, all the aforementioned property shall transfer in full to Kaziah Vance as a person who has shown true nobility and dignity.’ End quote.”
Silence hung in the office.
Kaziah didn’t immediately understand what she had heard. The words came slowly, as if through cotton.
The inheritance goes to her if the marriage is dissolved.
And they had already signed the divorce papers.
“That… that’s impossible,” Tavarius squeezed out, stepping toward the desk. “That can’t be. Granddaddy couldn’t write that.”
“The will was drafted two years ago,” the lawyer replied calmly. “Notarized properly, signed in the presence of witnesses. It is absolutely legal.”
“But why?” Tavarius grabbed his head. “Why would he do that? I’m his grandson. His only grandson.”
Auntie Vernice rose heavily from her chair and looked at Tavarius with sadness.
“Because Eustace saw right through you,” she said quietly but firmly. “Two years ago, when he came to visit y’all in Chicago for the last time, he stayed with you for a couple of days. Remember?”
Tavarius was silent, his face turning white.
“He saw how you treat Kaziah,” the old woman continued. “How you boss her around. How you take advantage of her working two jobs. He saw that she is a good woman, and you are selfish and unkind. And that’s when he decided to change the will.”
“He came to my office,” the lawyer picked up. “He said he wanted to protect a decent person—that if you stayed married for at least a year after his death, it meant you two needed each other after all, and the inheritance would go to you. But if you divorced, it meant Kaziah deserved compensation for all the years she endured your relationship.”
“When did you file for divorce?” the lawyer asked, flipping through papers.
“I filed the application the day before yesterday,” Tavarius answered hollowly. “Expedited procedure. I paid extra to get it done fast, and the divorce is already registered.”
The lawyer nodded.
“Yesterday at three p.m.,” he said, pointing. “Here is the stamp in the database. So the condition of the will has been violated. The marriage was dissolved earlier than one year after the testator’s death. Consequently, according to the will, all property transfers to Kaziah Vance.”
Kaziah sat motionless, her head spinning.
This was unreal.
Two million dollars. The condo. The lake house. All of it was hers now.
Not Tavarius’s—the man who threw her out of the house laughing.
Hers.
“No,” Tavarius rasped, jumping up. “No, that’s mine. That’s my inheritance. I’m the grandson. I have the right.”
“You had the right,” the lawyer corrected. “Up until the moment you divorced your wife. Now the right has passed to her. This is the will of the deceased, and it is being executed in accordance with the law.”
Tavarius spun around to face Kaziah. His eyes burned with a feverish gleam.
“Kez,” he breathed, taking a step toward her. “Kez, listen. It’s all a mistake, stupidity. I didn’t mean what I said back then. I was just stressed, you know, because of the whole inheritance story. I didn’t really think that.”
Kaziah watched him silently.
“We can fix everything,” he continued, dropping to his knees right in front of her, right in the middle of the office. “We can get married again. The divorce was only finalized yesterday. We can cancel it, right?”
He turned to the lawyer.
“We can file some motion, withdraw the divorce.”
“You cannot withdraw the divorce,” the lawyer answered dryly. “But you can enter into a new marriage. However, that will no longer be the marriage referred to in the will. The condition of continuous marital relations has been violated.”
“Then we’ll get married again anyway.”
Tavarius grabbed Kaziah’s hands. His palms were clammy, sticky.
“You hear me, Kez? We’ll get married. Everything will be like before. Even better. I’ll change. I swear I’ll be different. I’ll love you. Take care of you.”
Kaziah silently pulled her hands away.
“Kez, please,” his voice trembled. “Don’t do this. Don’t destroy my life. Granddaddy wanted us to be together. See? He wanted to test us, and we passed the test. We just didn’t know about it.”
“You failed the test,” Kaziah said quietly, looking him in the eye. “You kicked me out of the house. You laughed at me. You said I was a plain Jane who wasn’t worthy of you.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he exclaimed. “I was a fool. Forgive me. I’m on my knees asking—forgive me.”
Kaziah stood up.
Tavarius remained on his knees, looking up at her. There was panic in his eyes, despair—but not repentance. No shame for what he had done. Only the fear of losing the money.
“Get up, Tavarius,” she said calmly. “Don’t humiliate yourself.”
“I’ll do anything,” he clutched the hem of her coat. “Anything you say. We’ll get married and I’ll give you half the inheritance. No, more than half. You get 60%. Seventy. Kez, please.”
She gently removed his hands and stepped back.
“I don’t want to marry you,” she said quietly but firmly. “Not for all the money in the world. No, Tavarius. You ended everything that was between us. You ended it with your words, with your laughter when you threw me out. And I don’t want to go back to that life. Not for anything.”
She turned to the lawyer.
“What do I need to do to claim the inheritance?”
Attorney Sterling nodded with respect.
“You’ll need to come in a few times, sign documents, process the certificate of inheritance rights. I’ll explain everything. We can start right now if you wish.”
“I wish,” said Kaziah.
“Kez, wait,” Tavarius jumped to his feet. “You can’t just take everything. It’s mine. My inheritance. I’ll sue. I’ll find a way to contest the will.”
“You can try,” said the lawyer, “but the will is drafted competently. All formalities are observed. The deceased was of sound mind and memory, confirmed by medical records. The court will not take your side.”
“I won’t leave it like this,” shouted Tavarius. “I’ll get justice.”
“Justice has already been served,” said Auntie Vernice quietly, walking up to Kaziah.
She took her hand and squeezed it.
“Eustace was a wise man. He knew what he was doing. My dear, I am glad it turned out this way. You are a good person, and you deserve this inheritance more than anyone.”
Tears welled up in Kaziah’s eyes for the first time in days—not from pain, but from gratitude, from relief.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Tavarius stood in the middle of the office, pale, with glazed eyes.
Everything had collapsed in a single second.
Two million dollars. The new life. All his plans. Everything turned to dust.
And he only had himself to blame.
“You may go, Mr. Vance,” the lawyer said. “Your presence is no longer required. Miss Vance will stay. We need to discuss details.”
Tavarius opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He stood for a few more seconds, then turned around and walked out of the office.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
Kaziah exhaled. Only now did she realize she hadn’t been breathing this whole time.
Her legs gave way and she sank back into the chair.
“Are you okay?” the lawyer asked, concerned. “Water?”
“No, thank you. It’s just… it’s all so unexpected.”
“I understand. But believe me, Eustace made the right choice. He spoke a lot about you when he was drafting the will. He said you were the only person in his grandson’s circle worthy of respect.”
Kaziah nodded, not knowing what to say.
Auntie Vernice sat next to her and hugged her shoulders.
“Hold on, baby,” she whispered. “The worst is over. Now a new life begins.”
Yes, thought Kaziah. A new life—without Tavarius, without humiliation, without counting every penny. With two million dollars she couldn’t even imagine.
It felt like a dream—scary and beautiful at the same time.
Kaziah left the law office at dusk.
In her hands was a folder with documents. In her head, a fog. But in her chest, a strange weightless feeling, as if she were floating above the ground.
Everything that happened seemed unreal, as if someone else had received this inheritance and she was just watching from the sidelines.
She took out her phone and called Tasha.
“Tasha, you won’t believe it,” she said when her friend answered. “I… I became the heir. Everything went to me. Two million dollars.”
Silence hung on the other end. Then a scream rang out.
“What? Kaziah, are you serious? How?”
Kaziah explained on the way, as she walked to the ‘L’ train station, about the will, about the condition, about how Tavarius stood on his knees and begged her to come back.
She spoke and didn’t believe her own words.
“That… that is simply incredible,” Tasha exhaled. “Kez, do you understand what this means? You’re free. You’re secure. You can do whatever you want.”
“I haven’t realized it yet,” admitted Kaziah, going down into the subway. “It’s like a dream.”
The following days flew by in a whirlwind of events.
Trips to the lawyer. Signing documents. Meetings with property appraisers. Opening bank accounts.
Auntie Vernice helped with everything, explained what was what, supported her. It turned out she knew about Eustace’s plans from the very beginning.
“He told me when he was writing the will,” the old woman said, sitting with Kaziah in a soul food café after another visit to the lawyer. “He said, ‘Vernice, I saw how that boy treats his wife. He’s selfish and acting wrong. If he doesn’t change in a year, let her at least get compensation for all those years.’ Eustace was a fair man. He couldn’t stand injustice.”
Kaziah listened and felt gratitude toward the old man she barely knew. He had protected her even after death. Gave her a chance to start over.
But Tavarius didn’t give up.
He called every day. First he begged. Then he threatened. Then he begged again.
He came to Tasha’s building. Waited outside her workplace.
Kaziah didn’t talk to him. She walked past him, but he would catch up to her, grab her arm.
“Kez, you can’t do this to me,” he shouted in the middle of the street, ignoring passersby. “We lived together for five years. Five years. Do they mean nothing? Did they mean nothing to you?”
“You proved what they meant to you when you kicked me out,” Kaziah answered calmly, freeing her hand.
“I explained I wasn’t myself. Forgive me. Give me one more chance.”
But she walked past again and again, and each time it became easier.
The pain dulled, went away, turned into indifference.
One evening, he showed up at Tasha’s door.
Kaziah opened it and saw him: haggard, in a wrinkled shirt, with puffy eyes. He stood with a bouquet of wilting roses in his hands.
“I sleep here on the stairs every night,” he said hoarsely, “waiting for you, Kez. Please, I can’t be without you. Come back. We’ll get married. I’ll give you all the inheritance if you want. Every penny. Just be with me.”
Kaziah looked at him for a long moment and realized nothing remained.
No pity. No sympathy.
This man was a stranger to her.
“Tavarius, you don’t understand,” she said quietly. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the fact that you showed your true face. You humiliated me, threw me out like I was disposable, and I don’t want to be with a man capable of that. Never again.”
“But people make mistakes,” he pleaded. “I made a mistake. I admit it. But we can start over.”
“No, we can’t,” she answered. “Goodbye, Tavarius.”
She closed the door.
Behind it, she heard pounding. Then sobbing.
Tasha looked at her friend with admiration.
“Kez, you did good,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”
Kaziah leaned against the door and closed her eyes.
Yes. She had done the right thing. She knew it with all her heart.
A week later, the inheritance paperwork was finalized.
Kaziah became the owner of the condo downtown, the lake house, the bank accounts, and the stock portfolio—which, according to specialists, was worth more than initially thought, bringing the total value to around $2.5 million.
She sat in her new apartment—huge, bright, with high ceilings and windows overlooking a quiet Chicago courtyard—and couldn’t believe this was her home now.
The furniture was old, but high quality. Paintings hung on the walls, books stood on the shelves. Granddaddy Eustace had lived a long life here, and in every corner she felt his aura—calm, wise.
Kaziah got up and walked to the window.
The city buzzed below, people rushing somewhere, cars driving. She stood there in this apartment, and for the first time in years felt free. Truly free.
She called the clinic and put in her resignation.
She quit the second bookkeeping job, too.
No more slaving away for fourteen hours a day. No more penny-pinching.
“What are you going to do now?” Tasha asked when they met for lunch near Grant Park.
“I don’t know,” Kaziah admitted, stirring her iced tea. “I want to live for myself. Maybe learn something new. I always wanted to learn French properly. And I want to travel, see the world.”
“You deserve it,” Tasha smiled. “After everything you’ve been through.”
Kaziah signed up for French classes, then painting classes.
She had loved to draw as a child, but then life got in the way. Now she had time for everything.
She bought clothes she liked, went to beauty salons, to the hairdresser.
Gradually, day by day, she returned to herself—to that Kaziah she had buried under the weight of fatigue and humiliation.
A month later, Auntie Vernice invited her for tea.
They sat in the kitchen of the old lady’s apartment, and Kaziah talked about her plans.
“And I also want to get into philanthropy,” she said. “Help people who fall into hard times like I did. Women who were left without support during breakups or divorces. Help them with lawyers, with housing, with job searches.”
“Eustace would approve,” Auntie Vernice smiled, pouring tea into cups. “He always said money should bring value, not just lie around like dead weight. You know, Tavarius tried to contest the will.”
“I heard,” Kaziah said. “But just as the lawyer predicted, the judge threw the case out.”
“The will was airtight. No grounds for contest,” Auntie Vernice nodded.
Kaziah nodded too.
She felt no gloating, no satisfaction from this news. She just accepted it as a fact.
“How is he now?” she asked, surprised at her own curiosity.
“Bad,” sighed Auntie Vernice. “Broke. He was renting that two-bedroom y’all lived in, from what I understand. He’s living on Dion’s couch now, trying to find a job, but nobody’s hiring him—no real experience, and his ego is too big for entry level. Rumor has it he linked up with some girl, but she left him quick when she realized he didn’t have a dime.”
Kaziah finished her tea.
She didn’t feel sorry for Tavarius.
He got what he chose.
Time passed.
Kaziah went to Italy, her first time abroad. She stood on a bridge in Venice and cried from happiness—from the beauty, from the fact that she was there, that she was free, that her whole life was ahead of her.
She learned to paint—and it turned out she was pretty good at it.
She opened a small charitable foundation that helped women in crisis situations, paying for lawyers during divorces, helping with housing, with job searches.
“You’ve changed,” Tasha said as they walked through Grant Park on a warm autumn day. “You look younger.”
“I feel reborn,” admitted Kaziah. “Like I lived my whole life in a dungeon and now I stepped into the light.”
And it was true.
She blossomed, cut her hair into a chic style, colored it, lost weight—not from diets, but simply because she stopped stress eating.
She started smiling, laughing, living.
And then, six months after that memorable day at the law office, a meeting happened.
Kaziah was in a coffee shop—the same one where she and Tasha often sat in downtown Chicago. She ordered a cappuccino and a croissant, sat by the window, and read a book.
Suddenly, the door opened and Tavarius walked in.
He saw her immediately and froze in the doorway.
She looked up from her book and met his gaze.
He had aged. He looked gaunt, thinner. He wore a cheap jacket, faded jeans. His hair was unkempt, stubble rough on his face.
Next to him was a girl—young, maybe twenty-three at most, with a bleached-blond weave and heavy makeup. She was saying something to him in an irritated tone.
“How much longer, T? You promised to take me to a real restaurant, and you bring me to this spot. Do you even have money?”
“I got it, Candy. I got it,” mumbled Tavarius, not taking his eyes off Kaziah. “Just uh… just a little tight right now. Later. Later.”
“Later, later, later,” the girl huffed. “All you do is promise. If I knew you were broke like this, I wouldn’t have even looked your way.”
They walked to the counter.
Tavarius ordered two coffees, his hands shaking as he dug change out of his pockets, counting it. The girl looked at him with contempt.
Kaziah watched this scene without any emotion.
Here he was—the man who once laughed at her, called her ordinary, said she wasn’t good enough for him.
Now he had become exactly what he thought she was: a nobody in his own story.
And the girl next to him looked at him exactly the way he had looked at Kaziah six months ago.
Tavarius took the coffees and turned around.
Their eyes met again.
He took a step toward her, but Kaziah looked away and went back to her book—just continued reading as if he wasn’t there.
“Tav, why are you standing there?” the girl called out. “Let’s sit down.”
He stood for another second, then turned and followed her to a table in the corner.
Kaziah saw in her peripheral vision how they sat down, how the girl continued to complain about something, how Tavarius sat hunched over, staring into his cup.
Kaziah finished her coffee, finished her croissant, left a generous tip, grabbed her purse, and walked out of the café.
She didn’t look back, didn’t approach, just walked past like you walk past a stranger.
It was sunny and warm outside, an Indian summer afternoon in the Midwest.
Kaziah stopped on the sidewalk, lifted her face to the sun, and smiled.
Her phone rang in her pocket.
It was Auntie Vernice, inviting her to the lake house, saying the apples were ripe and it was time to harvest.
“Of course I’ll come,” said Kaziah. “This weekend.”
She walked down the street, and for the first time in years, there was no heaviness in her chest.
No fear for tomorrow. No shame. No pain.
There was just life—new, bright, full of possibilities—and it belonged only to her.
She passed a travel agency window and stopped.
Photos hung on the display: Paris, Prague, Barcelona.
Kaziah thought for a moment.
Maybe it was time to go somewhere else. Paris, for example. Tavarius once said he wanted to go there when he got rich.
But he didn’t get rich.
She did.
She smiled at her reflection in the window.
No, not Paris. Paris could wait. Right now, she just wanted to live here in this city. Enjoy every day. Paint. Learn. Help people through her foundation. Be herself.
And what happened with Tavarius—that was already another life. A stranger’s life. The past.
She had closed that door and would never open it again.
Never.
She took out her phone and dialed Tasha.
“Tasha, let’s go out tonight. Maybe the theater or that new soul food spot on the riverwalk,” she said.
“I’d love to,” her friend rejoiced. “You sound especially happy today.”
“Just a good mood,” smiled Kaziah.
She hung up and walked farther down the sunny street, and her chest felt light, bright—as if she were flying, not walking, as if the whole world had opened up before her, full of colors and possibilities.
And somewhere in the café behind her, Tavarius sat, staring at the bottom of an empty coffee cup, silently cursing the day he decided money was more important than love, and pride more valuable than basic kindness.
But that was no longer her business.
That was his life, his choice, his consequences.
And she had her own life now.
Finally her own.
And it was beautiful.
That evening, Kaziah stood on the balcony of her downtown condo with a glass of wine in her hand. Below, the Chicago city lights twinkled. Somewhere, music played. People laughed.
She looked at the stars and thought about that old man she barely knew but who gave her a second life.
“Thank you, Granddaddy Eustace,” she whispered into the night. “Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for justice. I won’t let you down. I’ll live this life with dignity.”
The wind caught her words and carried them somewhere into the darkness.
And Kaziah finished her wine, went back into the apartment, and went to bed calmly—without nightmares, without anxiety. Just sleep, knowing that tomorrow would be a new day.
And it would be a good one.
Because now every day was a good one.
Because she was free.
Finally free.
And that was true happiness.
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