I’m Alexandra, 34 years old, sitting in divorce court watching my husband of 8 years laugh as he signs our divorce papers. James always thought I was just his trophy wife with no ambition. Little did he know that while he was cheating on me with his co-worker, I was building an empire right under his nose.
The judge is about to read my financial statement and I can’t wait to see his smug smile disappear. Before I tell you how my soon-to-be ex-husband’s smile vanished from his face, let me know where you’re watching from and hit that like and subscribe button if you’ve ever had to stand up for yourself when no one expected you to. I was a small-town girl from Indiana who moved to Chicago for college with big dreams.
I studied graphic design and was determined to make it in the big city despite my modest upbringing. My parents had always taught me the value of hard work and saving money, lessons that would prove invaluable later in my life. I met James at a charity fundraiser for a children’s hospital.
I was there because I had volunteered to design their promotional materials and he was there because, as I later learned, it was good for his image. James came from old money, worked as an investment banker, and exuded the kind of confidence that only comes from never having to worry about finances a day in your life. You don’t look like you belong here, were his first words to me, which I now realize was both an insult and a preview of our entire relationship.
At the time, though, his charming smile and the way he focused entirely on me when we talked made me overlook the red flag. Our romance was a whirlwind. James took me to restaurants where the menus had no prices, weekend trips to New York on a whim, and introduced me to a lifestyle I had only seen in movies.
He seemed perfect, attentive, successful, and seemingly in love with me despite my ordinary background. I was making a modest income as a junior graphic designer at a marketing firm. I loved my job, the creative challenges, and the satisfaction of seeing my work in the real world.
James, however, referred to it as my little job and often suggested I didn’t need to work at all. Why exhaust yourself for pennies when I can give you everything, he would say, not understanding that my career was about more than money. It was about my identity and independence.
The proposal came six months after we met at an upscale restaurant overlooking the Chicago skyline. The ring was enormous, the champagne expensive, and the moment perfectly orchestrated for maximum effect. Several diners even applauded.
It felt like a fairy tale, and I said yes without hesitation. Our wedding was small but elegant, my choice, despite his family’s push for a lavish affair with hundreds of guests. Looking back, I realized that was one of the few times I stood my ground against the Shannon family expectations.
A modest wedding for a modest girl, his mother Elaine had commented with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. That was my first real taste of how his family viewed me, as someone who wasn’t quite good enough for their son. After the honeymoon in the Maldives, we moved into James’s luxury condo in downtown Chicago.
Everything was sleek, expensive, and cold, much like his family. I tried to add personal touches, photos, and colorful artwork, but James preferred the minimalist aesthetic that showcased his wealth rather than our personality as a couple. The first signs of trouble appeared within months.
James questioned every decorating decision I made, criticized my choice of friends, and made subtle digs about my career path. Graphic design is so common. He said once after meeting some of my colleagues, you have the potential to be exceptional, but you’re squandering it on logo designs for companies no one has heard of.