For twenty years, I built my husband up from nothing, shaping him into a star professor at Columbia. I raised a son and a daughter, molding them into a Wall Street powerhouse and a PR director. They were the masterpieces of the first half of my life. But on my fiftieth birthday, they linked arms and shoved me into hell. My husband announced he was leaving me for a young student, calling her his “higher-dimensional soulmate.” My children cheered him on, telling me not to stand in the way of their father’s “brand elevation.” In my past life, I endured fifteen more years of misery to hold that family together. In the end, all I got was my husband’s deathbed resentment and my children leaving me to die in a nursing home, never even claiming my ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that birthday dinner. My husband was gazing tenderly at his student, just about to speak. But this time, I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag, slid it in fron......
