A'roya

Chapter Eighteen

Hello, My laptop is broken and my phone is also broken. I'm on my last straw, my dad's laptop and he's being stingy.

He thinks I'm doing homework 😫

"Ok, Mr. Foundler wants ninety percent of assets, the house, car, and ring back, and he'll sign the papers." Derek's lawyer states.

I scoffed. "No, Derek can't have ninety percent. He can have the house. He also can't have my damn car. He can definitely have his cheap ass ring back. In fact, it's in the house you want to keep. This is ridiculous; sign the papers, be fair, fifty-fifty."

I have a net worth of about a hundred thousand dollars, together, Derek and I have a net worth of two hundred thousand dollars and this fool wants to take ninety percent of it.

"We both contributed equally. I don't see why forty percent more of my money should be yours."

Derek sneered. "You cheated on me."

I groaned. "So, did you! Did you also forget the domestic abuse charges?!"

"My arm is gone because of you!" He shouted back.

"That's not my fault, goofy! You shouldn't have done what you did! Take your L and walk away." I said before both lawyers made us stand back.

Derek shook his head. "Before this, she was such a bitch. Let anything slide. This facade won't last a minute. You're a sinner, A'roya."

"You're the only one going to hell, Derek." I spat back.

My lawyer cleared her throat. "My client, Ms. Belford, requests her fifty percent of assets, her car, and any other property that belongs to her that Mr. Foundler uses."

"Bitch," Derek said under his breath.

"Come find out," I growled back. "I want all my shit back, Derek, or I'll press charges of domestic abuse. What would your poor mother say?"

Derek glared at me, speechless. "Exactly," I concluded. "Get help, Derek; you need it and sign the fucking papers 'cause you're not getting ninety percent of anything."

"A'roya, what about your mother? What would she say about this?"

I rolled my eyes. "She is none of your concern, I said, sign the papers." I leaned over the table. "That's all you need to worry about."

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

"How'd it go with Derek?" Vincent asked, sitting on the couch next to me.

I shrugged. "Fine." I lied.

"Try again, dumbass."

I pouted. "So mean for what."

He just gave me a nonchalant glare. "Go on."

I sighed. "He wants ninety percent, claiming that I cheated on him and he deserved it–BUT, don't worry, I set him straight."

Vincent stares expectantly.

"He won't sign the divorce papers." I finished.

Vincent's eye twitched in annoyance, pure annoyance, not the annoyance he gets whenever I let Loki out or blow soap into his face when we bathed together, this is scary.

I climbed onto his lap and hugged him. "Vinnie, baby, it's fine. He'll sign the papers. He doesn't want to go to prison."

"He still should."