He Forced Me Eat Fried Chicken, I Made Him My Ex

My husband, Liam, had been taking me, eight months pregnant, to this cheap fried chicken place daily. He always ordered the same $4.99 combo. I told him I was sick of fried chicken and asked him to get me a salad instead. He slammed the fried chicken right into my face, his eyes practically spitting fire. “I drive a cab every day to support you, and you still dare to be picky? Ungrateful bitch!” Then he immediately turned, flashing a fawning smile at Tiffany, the curvy, sexy owner of the fried chicken shop. “My apologies! My wife is just being extra about that! Tonight, all the fried chicken in the shop is on me!” With that, he snatched $1000 from me and handed it to Tiffany. That $1000 was for my prenatal checkup today. I forced a bitter smile. I remembered how, ever since we got married, Liam and I had moved into a cramped, dark basement apartment, scrimping on every single penny. Liam always used to reassure me: “When I make it big, I’ll treat you and our child like royalty.” But I never expected him to cheat before he even made it big. Sobbing, I ran to the Dean’s office and collapsed into his arms. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I want a divorce!”