Vanessa slowly lowered the cup of coffee, the warm liquid cooling in her hands. Her fingers, adorned with rings—gifts from her husband over twenty years of marriage—trembled slightly. Through the large panoramic window of the Bellagio restaurant, the city lights stretched out before her, yet she noticed neither the twinkling lights nor the bustling waiters.

Her entire world had shrunk to a single table across the room.

“What a coincidence!” she whispered under her breath, watching Isabelle tenderly caress the hand of a young brunette. “What an amazing coincidence…”

How many times had she asked her husband to bring her to this very restaurant? Ten? Twenty? “Honey, I’m tired,” “Sweetie, maybe another time,” “Vann, I have an important meeting”—excuses stacked one after another until she had stopped asking.

And now, there he was, sitting back casually in his chair, laughing with such a youthful vigor, as if he had regained fifteen years of youth.

A waiter approached her table:

“Would you like anything else?”

“Yes,” Vanessa raised her eyes, a glimmer of amusement flickering in them. “Please bring the bill from that table over there. I’d like to give them a gift.”

“Pardon?”

“That man in the burgundy blazer is my husband. And I want to pay for their dinner. Please, just don’t mention who exactly did it.”

The young waiter looked at her with surprise but nodded. Vanessa took out her credit card—the very one Isabelle had given her for her last birthday. “Spend on yourself, my dear,” he had said then. Well, technically, she was doing just that—spending on herself. On her future.

After settling the bill, she stood and, as she passed by her husband’s table, slowed her pace for a moment. Isabelle, completely absorbed in his companion, didn’t even notice her familiar silhouette. Or perhaps he didn’t want to? Vanessa smirked: how many times had she turned a blind eye when she didn’t want to see the obvious?

Stepping outside, she took a deep breath of the cool evening air. One thought swirled in her mind: “Well then, Isabelle, you chose this. Now it’s my turn.”

At home, Vanessa k!cked off her shoes and walked into her study.

Strangely, her hands no longer trembled. Inside, an amazing calm reigned—as if after a long illness, the fever had finally subsided.

"So, where do we begin?" she asked her reflection in the mirror.

Opening her laptop, Vanessa methodically created a new folder titled “New Life.” Something told her that the next few weeks would be very eventful. She retrieved an old box of documents from the closet—the very one Isabelle had never bothered to open.

“It really pays to be meticulous,” she murmured, sifting through the papers.

The house documents were exactly where she had left them five years ago. The house… her little fortress, bought with the money from selling her grandmother’s apartment. Back then, Isabelle was just starting his business and had kept repeating:

“Vaness, you understand that all funds are needed for business development right now. I’ll make it up to you later.”

She understood. She had always understood everything. That’s why she registered the house in her name—just in case. Isabelle hadn’t even inquired about the details of the deal, completely trusting her with “this paper hassle.”

The next item was the bank accounts. Vanessa opened her online banking and methodically began to check the flow of funds. Thanks to her habit of keeping track of all finances, she knew exactly which amounts belonged to her personally.

Her phone vibrated—a message from Isabelle:

“Running late at an important meeting. Don’t wait for dinner.”

Vanessa smiled:

“An important meeting… Yes, dear, I saw just how important it was.”

She opened her contacts and found the number of Maddy Steward—the family lawyer. Or rather, now her personal lawyer.

“Good evening, Maddy Steward. I’m sorry for the late call, but I need a consultation. Does ten o’clock tomorrow work for you? Excellent. And one more thing… Let’s meet not in the office, but at the ‘Swallow’ café. Yes, that’s right—the matter is delicate.”

After ending the call, Vanessa stretched and approached the window. In the darkness, the city lights twinkled—just like in the restaurant. But now they seemed to her not romantic, but heralding change. Big changes.

The morning began with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Isabelle, who had returned after midnight, was still asleep, while Vanessa was already sitting in the kitchen, reviewing her notes.

For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she was delighted by her habit of noting down every little detail.

“Good morning, dear,” she said as she heard Isabelle’s footsteps. “How did yesterday’s meeting go?”

For a second, Isabelle froze, but quickly regained himself:

“Productive. We discussed a new contract.”

“Oh? And what is this… contract called?” Vanessa looked up from her cup, carefully watching her husband’s reaction.

“What do you mean?” His voice sounded almost natural, but his right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly—a sure sign of nervousness.

“Nothing special. I’m just curious about your affairs,” she smiled and rose from the table. “I have to go; I have a meeting.”

“A meeting? With whom?” Now his voice carried a note of worry.

“With the future,” she replied enigmatically and left the kitchen.

The “Swallow” café greeted her with its cozy half-light and the smell of freshly baked pastries. Maddy Steward was already waiting at a table in the far corner.

“Vanessa Alexander, I must admit, your call surprised me,” the lawyer began as they placed their order.

“Lately, many things surprise me,” she said, taking out the folder of documents. “Tell me, Maddy Steward, how quickly can a divorce be finalized if one party owns most of the jointly acquired property?”

The lawyer choked on his coffee:

“Pardon… what?”

“You know the house is registered in my name, don’t you? And most of the funds in the accounts are my personal savings. I want to know my rights.”

For the next two hours, they methodically went over every document, every bank statement. Maddy Steward grew more astonished by his client’s foresight.

“You know,” he said towards the end of their meeting, “I’ve never seen such a prepared woman. Usually, in these situations, everyone acts on emotion.”

“And I don’t want to act on emotion,” Vanessa neatly folded the papers back into her folder. “I want to give a special gift.”

After leaving the café, she headed straight to the bank. It was time to turn her plan into action.

At the bank, Vanessa spent nearly three hours. The young manager looked at her with unmistakable admiration—few clients knew exactly what they wanted as clearly as she did.

“So then,” she summarized, “we close the main account, transfer the funds to a new one registered solely in my name. And block the cards.”

“And what about your husband?” the manager asked cautiously.

“He will keep his salary card. I think thirty thousand a month is enough for… important meetings.”

Leaving the bank, Vanessa felt a slight dizziness—not from fear, but from the sensation of freedom. Her phone vibrated again—this time it was their joint accountant calling.

“Vanessa Alexander, there’s been an offer to buy your share of the company. The price is more than attractive.”

“Excellent, Anna Sergeevna. Prepare the documents. And… let’s not inform Isabelle Path for now. I have a surprise for him.”

Next on her list was the travel agency. Vanessa pushed open the glass door and smiled at the consultant:

“Hello. I need a tour to Italy. The Tuscan valley, two weeks, the most picturesque places.”

“For two?” the young woman asked out of habit.

“No,” Vanessa shook her head. “Just for me. And the sooner, the better.”

That evening, upon returning home, she found Isabelle in an unusually agitated state.

“Vanessa, do you know why our joint cards are blocked?”

“Really?” she feigned surprise. “Perhaps it’s a system glitch. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“But I needed to pay for…” he faltered.

“Pay for what, dear?” A hint of honeyed notes crept into her voice. “Perhaps for dinner at the restaurant? By the way, how did you like the Bellagio? They say the cuisine there is exquisite.”

Isabelle paled:

“You… you were there?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Vanessa patted his shoulder. “I even paid your bill. Consider it… an advance on a future gift.”

Their twentieth wedding anniversary day turned out to be surprisingly sunny.

Vanessa woke up early, put on her favorite black dress, and neatly arranged her hair. On the kitchen table, a set breakfast awaited along with a beautifully wrapped folder with a golden bow.

Isabelle came downstairs, holding a bouquet of roses:

“Happy anniversary, dear! I reserved a table at…”

“At the Bellagio?” Vanessa interrupted him. “No need. I have a special gift for you.”

She handed him the folder:

“Open it. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Isabelle untied the bow and began pulling out documents. With each new paper, his face grew paler.

“What is this?” His voice trembled with anger. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, dear. For the first time in twenty years, I’m thinking completely clearly,” Vanessa calmly sipped her coffee. “The divorce papers, confirmation of my sole ownership of the house, and… oh yes, the restaurant bill. I thought it would be fair if I paid for our last dinner together.”

“You can’t do this!” Isabelle jumped up, knocking over a chair. “This is my business! My house!”

“Yours?” she raised an eyebrow. “Look at the documents more closely. And yes, I have already sold my share in the company. Very lucratively, by the way.”

“You… you’re just taking revenge on me!” he grabbed his head. “All because of some innocent flirtation…”

“No, dear. I’m giving you a gift—I’m giving you freedom. Now you can officially be with Natalya. By the way, tell her that the earrings look wonderful on her. I remember how I chose them myself last Christmas.”

Vanessa rose from the table and picked up the suitcase she had prepared in advance:

“You always said that women are too emotional. Well, I decided not to make a scene. I’m just grateful to you for opening my eyes.”

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked in a daze.

“To Tuscany. Remember, I always dreamed of visiting there? Now I can indulge that little weakness.”

At the doorway, she looked back:

“You know what’s most amazing? I’m truly grateful to you. If it weren’t for your… meeting, I would never have dared to change my life.”

A taxi was already waiting outside. As she got into the car, Vanessa looked at the mansion where she had lived for so many years. Strangely, she felt neither sadness nor regret. Only lightness and anticipation for a new life.

“To the airport?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” Vanessa smiled. “To a new life.”

The airplane took off right on schedule. Gazing out the window at the shrinking city below, she took out her phone and read a message from Isabelle: “We can discuss everything! Come back!”

“No, dear,” she whispered, deleting the message. “Now my life belongs only to me. And it’s the best gift I could ever give myself.”