Page 19 of His Vengeful Tradwife

Amanda cuddled beside me, but all she wanted to talk about was money.

"Does she know yet that you get access to all her sponsor money for five years?" she asked gleefully. "Or hasn't someone explained it to her yet?"

I felt a little stab of guilt. Fuck, my goal with the divorce wasn't taking Tallulah's money.

"Shut up," I said shortly.

"The beauty of it is, since you're a lawyer, there's nothing she can do about it!" Amanda caroled, way too loudly. "You've got her by the balls, no matter which way you look at it."

"Shutup!" I snapped again, but I was distracted by the sight of someone coming in the driveway.

If this was that shithead from last night, back for more, I was going to wring his fucking neck . . .

Tallulah breezed by us, and I jerked around.

Fuck, had she heard us talking?

I noticed she had showered and changed out of her overalls and into a pair of very tiny tight shorts and a tank top, the shirt straining to hold her heavy breasts.

"Don't you look darling?" Amanda cooed. "Darling, you're taking this so well."

I shifted uncomfortably. I did not want to be reminded of how well Tallulah was taking the divorce. Like she never gave a shit about me in the first place.

"It's easy to take things well when I'm knee-deep in younger and more vigorous dick," Tallulah said merrily. "You wouldn't know anything about that, though. I'm sorry to tell you Maverick's vigorous years are all behind him, honey."

She was lying; I knew she was! And somehow I was going to force my wife to admit that.

Then she opened the door and I was gobsmacked to see that dipshit James from work enter my home. And the glance he gave Tallulah, sliding up and down her body, lingering on her big tits and the way the shorts barely covered her ass, filled me with murderous rage.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked, striding over to stand by her.

"He's here to give me legal advice," Tallulah said.

"Yeah, have to make sure this little lady doesn't get taken to the cleaners byyou, Maverick," James said in his irritating jovial manner.

"I'm going to give you five seconds to get out of this house--" I began, when my cellphone rang.

I glanced down to see that it was my stockbroker and hit ignore. But Horace called again, and then again, and I picked up irritably.

"What? Now is not a good time!"

"What the fuck is happening over there?" Horace screeched in my ear. "Your retirement account is literally disappearing in front of my eyes likesandin a motherfuckingglass!"

"What's that about our retirement accounts?" Amanda yelped. Since I knew more about the stock market than she did, our accounts and stocks were virtually identical. I had put most of our money in a skincare company that was very popular and seemed to have a lot of fans on social media. I thought it was a very clever investment, if I said so myself. . .

"Can you sell?" I asked, motioning to Amanda to check the stock market app. "Stem the loss?

"No way! It's a bloody murder scene!" Horace yelled. "Wall Street is inshambles! They've had to stop trading early! Did you do something to piss your wife off?"

My wife?

"Stop the numbers!" Amanda wailing, jabbing her thumb ineptly at the screen. "Make them stop Maverick!"

She began to wail and shriek.

Had she always been this much of a fucking whiny bitch? I couldn't even concentrate on how to fix this with Amanda screaming hysterically in my ear.

"It's something she said on one of her lives," Horace said.

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