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I filed for voluntary departure with USCIS. I wanted my famous lawyer husband to personally “deport” me. He had once been my god, Chicago’s “golden voice,” the man who swore he would keep me safe in this country. But for the sake of his assistant, a woman who could burst into tears at the slightest provocation, he missed my green card interviews again and again, trampling three years of my hope underfoot. He was certain I couldn’t survive without his protection. He laughed, saying I probably couldn’t even buy a bus ticket to Canada on my own. He didn’t know I had already bought a one-way ticket to the other side of the world. It was only when the notice from USCIS landed on his desk that he came rushing home like a madman, blocked my path, dropped to his knees, and clung to my suitcase. “Without my signature, you’re not going anywhere!” I sneered. “You forgot, Noah. I already fired you.” ... Today was the ninth time. The ninth time I sat alone in the......

I filed for voluntary departure with USCIS. I wanted my famous lawyer husband to personally “deport” me. He had once been my god, Chicago’s “golden voice,” the man who swore he would keep me safe in this country. But for the sake of his assistant, a woman who could burst into tears at the slightest provocation, he missed my green card interviews again and again, trampling three years of my hope underfoot. He was certain I couldn’t survive without his protection. He laughed, saying I probably couldn’t even buy a bus ticket to Canada on my own. He didn’t know I had already bought a one-way ticket to the other side of the world. It was only when the notice from USCIS landed on his desk that he came rushing home like a madman, blocked my path, dropped to his knees, and clung to my suitcase. “Without my signature, you’re not going anywhere!” I sneered. “You forgot, Noah. I already fired you.” ... Today was the ninth time. The ninth time I sat alone in the......

I filed for voluntary departure with USCIS. I wanted my famous lawyer husband to personally “deport” me. He had once been my god, Chicago’s “golden voice,” the man who swore he would keep me safe in this country. But for the sake of his assistant, a woman who could burst into tears at the slightest provocation, he missed my green card interviews again and again, trampling three years of my hope underfoot. He was certain I couldn’t survive without his protection. He laughed, saying I probably couldn’t even buy a bus ticket to Canada on my own. He didn’t know I had already bought a one-way ticket to the other side of the world. It was only when the notice from USCIS landed on his desk that he came rushing home like a madman, blocked my path, dropped to his knees, and clung to my suitcase. “Without my signature, you’re not going anywhere!” I sneered. “You forgot, Noah. I already fired you.” ... Today was the ninth time. The ninth time I sat alone in the......

My husband was handling the registration for his mistress’s son. A paternity acknowledgment. A family trust fund. He was about to officially write that woman and her child into the Whitmore family tree. And I, his lawful wife, nine months pregnant, was standing just outside the lawyer’s office. I heard him tell the attorney, “Mara is emotionally unstable. Keep her in the dark for now.” Ha. He was afraid his “crazy” wife would ruin his grand moment as a savior. He thought I loved him enough to endure anything. He thought I couldn’t live without him. He thought I was here for a prenatal checkup and had just happened to pass by. He didn’t know I was also here to see a lawyer. And he certainly didn’t know I had brought two documents with me today. One was a signed divorce agreement. The other was a plan to destroy him. … What happened outside that lawyer’s office was merely the last straw. Before that, I had already found the draft of the pat......

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