When the blue plus sign materialized on that cheap plastic pregnancy test, I slumped against the wall of our cramped downstairs half-bath and wept.

The divorce proceedings didn't even make it to a judge.

Faced with Victoria’s overwhelming evidence of financial fraud, adultery, and the impending threat of criminal charges for hiding marital assets, David’s lawyer essentially forced him to surrender.

We met one last time to sign the finalized papers.

The terms were everything I had asked for and more. I kept the house. I kept all of my retirement and savings. David was ordered to pay back the sixty thousand he had stolen, plus my legal fees. Because he had actively denied paternity and abandoned the marital home, I was granted sole physical and legal custody of our unborn child. He was granted supervised visitation, contingent on him completing a parenting course, which I knew his ego would never allow him to do.

He was also ordered to pay massive child support, calculated on his previous partner-track salary, despite his current unemployed status.

David signed the papers with a shaking hand. He didn't look at me. He looked completely defeated, a hollow shell of the arrogant man who had tried to hand me a one-sided settlement in a sticky diner just months ago.

As I signed my own name, finalizing my freedom, Victoria slid the papers into her briefcase.

"Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen," Victoria said sharply.

I stood up, smoothing down my maternity skirt. David finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"Are you happy, Sarah?" he asked bitterly. "Are you happy you ruined my life?"

I paused at the door, looking back at him.