**Diary Entry**
The moment he walked out, I knew hed planned it all. Simon hadnt even bothered with a suitcasejust a gym bag slung over his shoulder, as though he were popping out for a quick workout, not abandoning ten years of marriage.
Id leave you the keys, he said, shrugging, but theres no point.
Charlotte lifted her chin. Her voice didnt waver, though inside, everything had frozen solid. She refused to let him see even a flicker of hurt. Not him.
What do you mean, *no point*?
Exactly that. The flats covering the debts, Lottie. *Our* debts.
He said it like he was telling her theyd run out of milk. As if this wasnt the home theyd built together, every cushion, every book chosen with care.
*Our* debts? She scoffed. Your brilliant crypto schemethat was never mine. I begged you not to touch it. Showed you the numbers, warned you it was a bubble.
And who celebrated when the first profits rolled in? His smirk cut deeper than a slap. We booked that holiday to Ibiza with that money. So the debts? Theyre ours too. Fairs fair.
He tossed a thick folder onto the kitchen table. Papers spilled out, burying the little ceramic salt cellar theyd bought on their honeymoon in Cornwall.
Loans, liens. Solicitors said youve got a week to clear out before the bailiffs come.
Charlotte didnt cry. Didnt beg. Just stared at him with pure, distilled contempt.
A *week*?
Call it freedom, he said, adjusting the cufflinks shed given him last Christmas. Ive met someone else. With her, I can *breathe*. With you? It was all spreadsheets, plans, budgets. Bloody exhausting, Lottie.
He didnt mention she was twenty-two. Or that her father was the investor hed been desperate to impress. Didnt admit his business was crumbling, and this marriage was his last lifeline.
Right, she said, shoving the papers aside. Get out.
Thats it? No screaming? He almost looked disappointed. Hed braced for tears, for rageneeded her breakdown to justify his own cruelty.
Screamings a luxury I cant afford, she said, meeting his gaze. Leave. And dont *dare* come back.
A shrug, a turn, the click of the door. Silence.
Alone in the wreckage, Charlotte moved to the window. Simon slid into a cab and vanished. She picked up her phone.
James? I need your help. No, Im fine. Im at the beginning.
James arrived within the hour. He thumbed through the documents, face grim.
He set you up. Half these loans are in your name; the rest, youre guarantor. Legally, youre sinking together.
I trusted him.
Trust doesnt excuse idiocy, he muttered, then sighed. Never mind. Whats this beginning?
Instead of answering, she opened her laptop. A sleek presentation filled the screen: *EdenGrow*. Vertical farming systems, meticulously designed.
The hobby I worked on while Simon played tycoon, she said. He called it my window-box fantasy. Meanwhile, I patented two designs and wrote software that slashes energy costs by 30%. Ive got everything but funding.
James scrolled, silent. This wasnt a dreamit was a blueprint.
Why didnt you say anything?
When? He treated every idea of mine like a personal insult.
James snapped the laptop shut.
Ill invest. Not a loana partnership. Thirty percent. First, you hire a top solicitor. Mine. You dont speak to Simon without him. Understood?
Understood.
Three days later, in a cramped rented office, the solicitor began bankruptcy proceedings to shield her future assets. Simon called.
Charlotte declined. His text followed: *Lottie, dont be daft. Just a few more signatures.*
She forwarded it to the solicitor. The reply was instant: *Hes trying to pin another loan on you. No contact.*
She blocked him. That night, unpacking boxes, she found their wedding album.
Two smiling faces. Turned out, hed only ever seen a reflection of what she could give him. Without hesitation, she dropped it into the bin.
Eight months later, the tiny office buzzed like a beehive. *EdenGrow*s techgrowing premium greens in urban spaceswas a hit. Restaurants, sick of unreliable suppliers, queued up. Three high-end chains signed contracts.
Meanwhile, Simons house of cards collapsed. The would-be father-in-law saw through him, withdrawing his backing. Without Charlotte handling the books, his firm imploded.
He heard of her success by chance. *She was supposed to be broken*, he seethed. Instead, shed thrived. *Without him.* So he struck where itd hurt most.
James called her that evening, face thunderous.
Your ex rang. Ranted about *EdenGrow* being a scam. Sent these. He slid over forged bank statements.
The air thickened. He was attacking the one thing she had lefther familys faith.
Did you believe him?
Course not. But he wont stop. Hell ruin your name.
A beat. Then, cold clarity: Then Ill stop him. Jamesyour security team. I need your best tech analyst. Ive got a hunch.
He studied her, seeing something new: steel.
Whats the plan?
She smiled faintly. Turns out, my window-box is a tech business. Time to use those skills beyond botany.
Her hunch was right. Simon hadnt just gambled on cryptohed run a Ponzi scheme, scamming his would-be in-laws circle. James analyst handed her a flash drive two days later, proof in hand.
She didnt go to the police. Instead, the report leaked straight to the investors security team.
The fallout was swift. Simon wasnt jailedjust dismantled. Forced to sell everything, his firm auctioned off. The girlfriend vanished.
A year later, Simon hunched at a bus stop, collar turned against the wind. A sleek electric car pulled up.
Charlotte stepped out, phone to her ear, laughing. She didnt see him. To her, he was irrelevanta speck in her rearview.
As the car glided away, it hit him: hed thought hed given her freedom. In truth, hed freed her *from him*. And that was the greatest gift hed ever given.
The bus arrived, but he didnt move. For the first time, he felt the weight of his own insignificance.
Two years on, *EdenGrow* expanded into Europe. At Heathrow, scrolling news, Charlotte paused. A society weddingthe investors daughter. In the background, a valet in uniform. Simon.
She studied the photo. Nothing. No anger, no sorrow. Just a man reduced to a blur. She closed the tab.
That night, James called.
Hows the German expansion?
On track, she said. Tell meever regret backing my window-box?
Regret? Only that I didnt drag you away from that tosser years earlier. You were always like this, Lottie. He was just a boulder in your path.
Not a boulder, she corrected. A warped mirror. I had to smash it to see myself again.
Her revenge wasnt his ruin. It was the day she stopped caring.
Freedom wasnt his fall. It was her flight.
