At Breakfast, My Husband Lashed Out When I Refused to Hand Over My Credit Card

We all turned to see Mr. Thatcher standing in the doorway, his presence commanding attention. He was every inch the professional lawyer, from his perfectly pressed suit to his stern expression.

Eric’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion.

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Thatcher stepped into the room, his movements deliberate and calm.

“I’m Lena’s attorney, Mr. Thatcher, and I suggest you take a step back from my client.”

The shock on Eric’s face was almost comical. He looked from Mr. Thatcher to me, then back again.

“Attorney? Lena, what is this?”

I took a deep breath, drawing strength from Mr. Thatcher’s presence.

“It’s exactly what it looks like, Eric. I’m filing for divorce.”

Marie let out a dramatic gasp.

“Divorce? You can’t be serious! Eric, do something!”

But Eric seemed frozen in place, his face a mask of disbelief. Mr. Thatcher took advantage of his silence to continue.

“Mrs. Campbell has retained my services to handle the divorce proceedings,”

he said, his tone professional but with an underlying steel.

“All future communication regarding this matter should go through me.”

Eric finally found his voice.

“This is ridiculous!”

he sputtered.

“Lena, you can’t just decide to get a divorce without talking to me first!”

“I believe the coffee mug you threw at her face was the end of that conversation, Mr. Campbell,”

Mr. Thatcher replied coolly. Eric’s face paled.

“That—that was an accident! I didn’t mean—”

“Save it for the court, Eric,”

I interrupted.

“I’m done listening to your excuses.”

Marie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly piped up.

“What about me? What about my needs? Eric promised me—”

Mr. Thatcher turned his steely gaze on her.

“Mrs. Campbell’s finances are no longer your concern, Miss Campbell. Any agreements you had with your brother do not extend to my client’s assets.”

Marie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. For once, she seemed at a loss for words.

Eric, however, was regaining his composure. His shock was giving way to anger once more.

“You think you can just walk away?”

he growled.

“After everything I’ve done for you? Everything I’ve given you?”

I felt a surge of anger of my own.

“Given me? What exactly have you given me, Eric? A life where I have to walk on eggshells? Where I’ve had to give up my dreams, my friends, my sense of self? That’s not a gift; that’s a prison.”

My words seemed to hit Eric like a physical blow. He staggered back slightly, his face a mixture of confusion and hurt.

For a moment I saw a glimpse of the man I’d fallen in love with years ago. But then his expression hardened once more.

“Fine!”

he spat.

“If this is how you want to play it, then let’s play. I’ll fight you every step of the way, Lena. You’ll get nothing!”

Mr. Thatcher stepped forward, placing himself between Eric and me.

“I wouldn’t advise that course of action, Mr. Campbell. My client has substantial evidence of your abusive behavior. If you choose to fight this, all of that will come to light in court. I suggest you consider your options carefully.”

Eric’s face went pale, then red with fury. He opened his mouth to retort, but Mr. Thatcher cut him off.

“I think we’re done here,”

he said firmly.

“I’ll be in touch with the divorce papers. Until then, I suggest you refrain from contacting Mrs. Campbell directly.”

Eric looked like he wanted to argue further, but something in Mr. Thatcher’s expression made him think better of it. He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and something that looked almost like fear.

“This isn’t over, Lena,”

he said, his voice low and threatening. I met his gaze steadily.

“Yes, Eric, it is.”

With a final glare, Eric stormed out of the house, Marie trailing behind him like a dejected puppy. As the door slammed shut behind them, I felt my knees go weak with relief.

Claire was at my side in an instant, supporting me as I sank onto the couch.

“You did it,”

she whispered, pulling me into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Lena.”

Mr. Thatcher cleared his throat softly.

“You handled that very well, Mrs. Campbell. It’s not easy to stand up to an abuser, but you did so with admirable strength.”

I looked up at him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

“Thank you, Mr. Thatcher. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

He nodded, a small smile softening his stern features.

“This is just the beginning, but you’ve taken the hardest step. We’ll take care of the rest together.”