1. Before the Crash
My name is Imani Washington, and at thirty-four, I thought my life was finally turning a corner.
My aunt Pearl—my father’s only sister—had passed away three months earlier, leaving behind a sprawling estate in Savannah. I didn’t grow up wealthy. My mother worked two jobs, and I had been on my own since seventeen. Aunt Pearl was the only adult who ever treated me like I mattered.
But I never imagined she’d leave me twenty-nine million dollars.
That morning, after meeting with her attorneys—Jefferson & Kline—I walked out of their marble building clutching the documentation with trembling hands. It felt unreal. Too big. Too heavy. Like something I’d drop and break.
All I wanted was to tell my husband, Marcus.
He’d been complaining for years about how he “deserved more,” how his friends were buying houses while we lived paycheck to paycheck. I thought this money might feel like freedom for both of us.
I sped down I-75, heart racing with excitement.
I never saw the truck coming.
Just a blinding horn.
A flash of chrome.
And then—darkness swallowing everything.
2. Waking Up Alone
When I woke in the hospital, everything hurt—the kind of pain that lives deep in your bones.
There were machines beeping softly. Sterile lights. A nurse adjusting my IV.
But no husband.
“Has… has anyone been here for me?” I whispered.
She hesitated. “No, sweetheart. Not yet.”
My phone had been shattered in the crash; it took me a day to get access to a temporary one. When I finally reached Marcus, relief flooded my chest—
—but his voice didn’t match my relief.
“What?” he snapped. “I’m at work.”
“I—I was in an accident,” I said. “A truck hit me. They said it’s a miracle I’m alive.”
“So?” he said.
So.
I almost dropped the phone.
“I just… wanted you to know.”
“Well, now I know,” he said. “Look, I don’t have time or money for a loser lying in a hospital bed. Handle your business and stop calling me.”
Then he hung up.
The silence afterward was louder than the crash.
3. The Visit
Three days later, the nurse came in with a bright, forced smile.
“You have visitors!”
Visitors.
Plural.
Marcus strode in first, wearing a brand-new navy suit that fit him too well. His beard was freshly lined up. His watch glinted under the fluorescent lights.
He looked like a man who had recently come into money.
Behind him walked a tall woman in a cream blazer and red heels. Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect everything. She held his hand like she had always been entitled to it.
Marcus tossed a thick envelope onto my bed. “Sign these.”
I stared at him. “What is this?”
“Divorce papers.”
My throat tightened. “You’re divorcing me while I’m still in the hospital?”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “you weren’t exactly doing much.”
The woman at his side gave a tight, polite smile. One of those smiles lawyers give to juries they don’t respect.
“Marcus,” I whispered, “who is she?”
“Oh,” he said casually, “this is Vanessa. My wife.”
I blinked. “Your… wife?”
Vanessa stepped closer, lifting her chin. “Ex-wife,” she corrected. “Once you sign those papers.”
The room tilted. My pulse hammered so hard it shook the monitors.
Marcus smirked. “Look, you’ve always been dramatic, but let’s make this easy. Sign the papers, and I’ll let you walk away clean.”
He flicked the envelope again.
And that’s when Vanessa picked it up—
looked at my face—
and screamed.
Not a gasp.
Not a yelp.
A full-throated scream that shattered the room.
Her expensive leather briefcase slipped from her hands and hit the floor.
“You,” she choked out, backing away from me. “No. No, no, no—Marcus, what the hell is this?”
Marcus frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”
She pointed at me with a trembling finger.
“That—I—she’s—Marcus, that woman is my client!”
Silence crashed around us.
I blinked. “Your… what?”
Vanessa swallowed hard. “I’m the attorney managing your twenty-nine-million-dollar trust.”
Marcus went pale.
Vanessa spun on him. “You told me she was a broke, clingy wife. You said she had nothing—nothing!”
Marcus stuttered. “B—but she doesn’t! She’s just—she’s—”
Vanessa’s eyes burned into him with fury.
“Oh my god. You married me while you were still married to your multimillionaire wife.”
Marcus pointed at me like I had set him up.
“This isn’t my fault!”
“Really?” Vanessa snapped. She turned to me. “Imani… I had no idea Marcus was your husband. I would never have—”
Marcus grabbed her arm. “Baby, listen—”
She wrenched her arm away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Then she looked at me—really looked—and her expression softened.
“Imani,” she said quietly, “you don’t deserve this. And you don’t need to sign anything.”
Marcus exploded. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
She ignored him completely.
“You don’t sign a damn thing,” she told me. “In fact—Marcus? You’re fired as her husband. Effective immediately.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
4. The Aftermath
Vanessa helped file every legal motion required:
restraining order, divorce filings with cause, financial protections, and a formal investigation into the crash.
Because something about that truck…
something about the timing…
It didn’t feel like an accident.
Over the next few weeks, Marcus spiraled. He showed up at my hospital, yelling at nurses. Threatening lawyers. Demanding “his half.”
But Vanessa shut him down like a gladiator.
“Georgia law doesn’t grant marital assets from trusts,” she explained sweetly while Marcus turned purple. “And since you committed bigamy… you actually owe her.”
Marcus tried to argue.
Tried to cry.
Tried to charm.
Failed every time.
Meanwhile, I healed—not just physically, but emotionally.
People talk about heartbreak like it’s something sharp.
But mine felt like shedding old skin.
5. The Truth About the Crash
A month after my release, Detective Rayburn visited my new penthouse in Midtown Atlanta. His face was grave.
“We located the truck driver,” he said. “He confessed he was paid to hit your vehicle.”
My stomach dropped.
“Paid by who?”
Rayburn slid a photo across the table.
Marcus.
Standing with the driver.
Money in hand.
My vision blurred with anger—and something else.
Relief.
I wasn’t crazy.
I wasn’t dramatic.
I wasn’t imagining things.
Marcus had tried to erase me before I could change my life.
But I survived.
And then, I thrived.
Rayburn continued, “He’ll be charged. And with your testimony, it’s pretty airtight.”
Vanessa smiled darkly.
“We’ll handle the civil suit.”
6. Thirty Days Later
The divorce finalized in record time.
I kept everything.
Marcus kept nothing.
Vanessa and I sat together at a rooftop bar overlooking the city—two women thrown together by chaos and betrayal.
She lifted her glass. “To new beginnings.”
I clinked mine against hers. “To surviving the people who were supposed to love us.”
After a moment, she said, “You know… you’re stronger than you think.”
I looked out over Atlanta’s glittering skyline.
“I know,” I said softly. “Because I had to be.”
I didn’t just survive the crash.
I survived the man who wanted me gone.
And now?
Now I was finally free.
