Not long after, news of my divorce with her exploded online.
One exposé after another flooded the internet.
Some claimed I was keeping dozens of mistresses.
Some said I was a regular at shady clubs.
Others even alleged I had an illegitimate child.
Photos were posted as so-called evidence.
I was crucified on the internet—labeled a heartless scumbag who abandoned his wife and child.
Still, I remained silent.
No explanations. No statements.
Until three days later, when I appeared in court.
Because the trial was public, the gallery was packed—not just with friends and family, but with reporters as well.
“Miguel,” Veronica said, fists clenched tightly, “I’ll give you one last chance. Admit your mistake, and let’s move on with our lives.”
Dariel chimed in beside her. “You don’t have a leg to stand on. You’ll lose everything in the divorce. What then? Who’s going to want anything to do with you?”
“Just give in,” he sneered. “Unless you want to end up sleeping on the street.”
Veronica's parents sat stiff-faced.
“Miguel,” her father said sternly, “think carefully about the consequences.”
“If your whole argument for splitting assets is that Veronica sleeps with a teddy bear, you have no chance of winning.”