**Diary Entry**
The bastard walked out for some twenty-something floozy, leaving his wife drowning in debt. A year later, he spotted her behind the wheel of a car worth more than his entire business.
Id hand you the keys, but whats the point?
Charlotte lifted her gaze slowly. James stood in the doorway, gym bag in handnot a suitcase. Like he was off for a quick workout, not abandoning ten years of marriage shed thought was solid.
What do you mean, no point? Her voice didnt waver. Inside, she was ice. But shed be damned if he saw her crack.
The flats covering the debts, Lottie. Our shared debts.
He said it like he was mentioning theyd run out of tea. As if this wasnt the home theyd built, every book and mug chosen together.
Shared? Your bloody crypto schemethats yours. I begged you not to touch it. Showed you the numbers, told you it was a gamble.
And who cheered when the first profits rolled in? His smirk was worse than a slap.
We blew that cash on a holiday in the Seychelles. Debts are ours too. Fairs fair.
He tossed a thick folder on the table. Papers fanned out, burying the souvenir napkin holder from their honeymoon.
All the paperwork. Loans, liens. Solicitors say youve got a week to clear out before the bailiffs come.
Charlotte stared, dry-eyed. Nothing left but cold contempt.
A week? Youre giving me a week?
Im giving you freedom, he said, adjusting the collar of the designer shirt shed bought him last birthday.
Met someone else. With her, I can breathe. With you? Suffocating. Always your plans, your numbers. Bloody dull, Lottie.
He didnt mention the girl was barely out of uni, or that her dad was the investor hed been grovelling to. Didnt say his business was sinking and this was his last lifeline.
Right, she said, shoving the papers aside. Get out.
Thats it? No screaming fit? James looked almost put out. Hed braced for tearsneeded her collapse to justify his own cruelty.
Cant afford theatrics, she said, holding his gaze. Leave. And dont you dare crawl back.
A shrug, a turn, the click of the door.
Alone in the wreckage, Charlotte watched from the window as his taxi pulled away. She dialled her brother.
Tom, listen. I need help. No, not troublea fresh start.
Tom arrived in forty minutes. He pored over the documents, jaw tight.
Planned it all, he muttered. Half these loans are in your name. Rest, youre guarantor. Legally, youre sunk together.
I trusted him.
Trust doesnt excuse idiocy, he snapped, then sighed. Fine. Whats this fresh start?
Charlotte opened her laptop. A sleek presentation filled the screen.
EdenGrow, Tom read. Vertical farming systems. This is
The hobby I worked nights on while James played Gordon Ramsay, she finished. He called it my pot-plant phase. Meanwhile, I patented two designs and built software cutting energy use by 30%. Got everything but funding.
Tom scrolled silently. Not a pipe dreama bulletproof plan.
Why keep it quiet?
When? He treated my ideas like insults to his ego.
Tom shut the laptop.
Ill back you. Not a loan30% stake. First move? Hire a solicitor. Ill recommend mine. You deal with James through him. Understood?
Understood.
Three days later, in a cramped rented office, the solicitor filed for personal bankruptcy to shield her future assets. James rang.
Charlotte declined. His text followed: Dont be daft, Lottie. Just a few more signatures.
She forwarded it to the solicitor. The reply was instant: Another loan trap. No signatures without me.
She blocked him. That night, unpacking boxes, she found their wedding album. Flipped the first pagetwo grinning fools.
Turned out hed only ever loved his reflection in her. Without hesitation, she chucked it in the bin.
Eight months on, the cramped office buzzed like a hive. Charlottes techgrowing premium greens in city centrescaught fire. Fancy restaurants, sick of dodgy suppliers, clamoured for contracts. EdenGrow landed deals with three high-end chains.
Meanwhile, Jamess house of cards collapsed. The sugar-daddy investor saw through him, pulled the plug. Without Charlotte handling the books, his firm imploded.
He heard of her success by chance and seethed. She was supposed to be sobbing in some bedsit. Instead, shed thrivedwithout him. So he aimed for the jugular.
Tom summoned her that evening, grim.
Your ex rang. Ranted about EdenGrow being a front. Sent these. He slid forged bank statements across the desk.
Charlottes blood ran cold. He was attacking the one thing lefther familys faith.
Did you believe him?
Im not a moron, Lottie. But he wont quit. Hell smear us.
She exhaled. Enough.
Then Ill end it. Tomyour security teams got a tech whiz, yeah? I need them. Time to test a theory.
Tom blinked. For the first time in years, he saw steel in his sisters eyes.
Whatre you planning?
Me? A faint smile. Just recalling my pot plants are tech-driven. Time to branch out.
Her hunch? Jamess debt wasnt just crypto. She remembered hushed calls, whispers of guaranteed returns. Toms hacker had answers in two days.
Ran sham investment sites. Ponzi scheme. Took crypto. Best bit? Scammed his almost father-in-laws mates.
Charlotte pocketed the USB. Didnt go to the cops. Through Tom, she leaked it straight to the investors security team.
The fallout was swift. No jailjust ruin. Forced to sell everything to repay his victims. Firm auctioned off. Girlfriend vanished.
A year later, James stood shivering at a bus stop. A sleek electric car purred to a halt. The door openedCharlotte stepped out, flawless in a tailored suit, chatting on her phone. She didnt glance his way. To her, he was pavement grit.
As the car glided off, it hit him: hed thought hed freed her. Truth was, hed freed her from himself. And that was the only decent thing hed ever done.
The bus arrived. He didnt move. For the first time, he tasted his own irrelevancebitter and choking.
Two years later, EdenGrow expanded into Europe. At Heathrow, Charlotte scrolled news, spotting a familiar name: Jamess exs dad was marrying her off. In the background, a blurry valetJames, in uniform.
She studied the photo. Nothing. No ache, no rage. The man whod been her sun was now a smudge. She closed the app.
Tom called that evening.
Hows the German launch?
On track. Tom ever regret backing my pot plants?
Regret? Only that I didnt drag you out of that mess sooner. Youve always had this in you. He was just a roadblock.
Not a roadblock, she said softly. A cracked mirror. Had to break it to see myself again.
Her revenge wasnt his downfall. It was forgetting he existed.
Freedom wasnt his crashit was her soar.
**Lesson learned: The best revenge isnt destruction. Its indifference. She walked into the boardroom, back straight, voice clear. No ghosts followed her in. The past was a closed file, encrypted and archived. When her assistant mentioned Jamess name months latersome minor legal echoshe paused, then smiled. Which one? she said, already turning toward the window, where the city lights shimmered like seeds scattered on black soil. Growth had no room for rot. She had gardens to grow.
