Chapter 3
Aria's POV
The fluorescent lights in the courthouse stung my eyes. I'd arrived at seven AM, wearing a cheap suit, sitting in the defendant's chair.
The gallery was packed—Atlas's fans holding "Justice for Atlas" signs, entertainment reporters everywhere. It felt more like a concert venue than a courtroom.
At nine o'clock, Atlas finally showed up. Two hours late, wearing a navy suit and sunglasses, followed by his legal team. Sage clung to his arm in an expensive dress, smiling sweetly.
"Sorry for the delay, Your Honor," David stood up. "My client requires additional protection. We request permission for him to keep his sunglasses on."
Excited chatter filled the gallery: "Atlas looks so hot!" "That crazy ex-wife looks terrifying."
My court-appointed lawyer Rebecca—a fresh graduate—nervously shuffled papers with trembling hands.
We're doomed.
"Your Honor," David began his performance, "my client has endured prolonged emotional abuse and threats from the defendant. Now, please allow me to present evidence."
The large screen lit up, showing surveillance footage from the mansion. There I was, going absolutely INSANE—smashing Atlas's awards, our photos, expensive vases worth thousands of dollars, everything shattered to pieces.
Watching myself on screen, my heart pounded. Damn it! That was right after I discovered Atlas's affair—I'd completely lost control.
"This demonstrates the defendant's violent tendencies," David pointed at the screen. "She not only destroyed property but also assaulted an innocent third party."
The footage switched to me slapping Sage, replaying it over and over.
The gallery erupted: "Oh my God!" "She actually hit someone!" "So psycho!"
I bit down hard, nails digging into my palms. Don't break down. Don't let them see you break.
"These actions were my client's normal emotional response to discovering her husband's infidelity..." Rebecca stammered.
"Normal?" David sneered. "Assaulting an innocent woman is a normal response?"
Atlas slowly stood up, removing his sunglasses to reveal "wounded" eyes.
"Your Honor, I'm genuinely scared. She was completely out of control. I fear what she might do to Sage and me."
Perfect victim performance.
His fans in the gallery shouted: "Poor Atlas!" "He looks so traumatized!" "That crazy woman should be locked up!"
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I absolutely couldn't cry. Not in front of these people.
I gripped the chair armrest tightly as that familiar tearing pain shot through my chest. Damn it, the cancer was acting up again.
During recess, I hid in the women's restroom, curled up on a toilet seat, trembling as I checked my phone.
Social media had EXPLODED.
"Aria is a psycho ex-wife" was trending #1, with over 100,000 related posts.
Entertainment bloggers were livestreaming: "Atlas Murray divorce case LIVE! Ex-wife shows violent tendencies in court! This is INSANE!"
Over 500,000 viewers, comments flooding in:
"She looks bitter and old, no wonder Atlas dumped her!"
"This psycho belongs in a mental hospital!"
"Atlas and Sage are true love, she's just jealous!"
"Justice for Atlas! Stay away from toxic people!"
Someone had maliciously photoshopped my face into a horror monster, getting over a million likes.
On video platforms, countless clips analyzed my "crazy behavior," each with hundreds of thousands of views.
My hands shook violently as tears dropped onto my phone screen, blurring those vicious comments.
I've become the world's laughingstock.
Worse yet, my remaining therapy clients were canceling appointments:
"Sorry Aria, but I saw the news. I can't risk my safety..."
"Maybe you should focus on your own mental health first..."
"I think it's best if we terminate our professional relationship..."
Ten years of building professional reputation—destroyed. I wasn't just a crazy woman now; I was an unemployed crazy woman.
I leaned against the bathroom door and sobbed loudly. The sound echoed in the empty restroom, but no one sympathized with me anymore.
The afternoon session covered asset division. I watched the judge flip through thick financial documents, each page determining my future.
The chest pain intensified. I clenched my teeth.
"Based on the income contribution analysis..." the judge said, each word like a nail hammering into my heart.
I gripped my hands tight, nails cutting into my palms.
"Considering Mr. Atlas as the primary income source, his social media business revenues should remain his property..."
NO! I built those accounts! Every single follower was earned through my sleepless nights!
I wanted to stand up and protest, but Rebecca pressed my shoulder, shaking her head. We had no evidence, no resources, no hope.
"Asset distribution is as follows: Defendant Atlas receives 90% of marital property, including all social media accounts, company shares, investments, bank deposits..."
Ninety percent.
That number struck my brain like lightning. The world spun, tinnitus drowning me like a tsunami.
Ten years of sacrifice, ten years of youth, ten years of love—for 90% of assets stripped away.
"Plaintiff Aria retains one Palo Alto property..."
The gallery erupted in excited discussion and applause. Atlas's fans celebrated this crushing victory.
"However," David stood up with fake mercy, "considering Ms. Aria's current difficult situation, my client generously offers $10,000 monthly alimony for five years, demonstrating his magnanimous nature."
Giving me charity with my own money?
Rage exploded like a volcano in my chest. The humiliation hurt more than cancer.
I shot up, the chair screeching against the floor. The entire courtroom fell silent, everyone staring in shock.
"I don't want his money!" I said through gritted teeth. "I don't want a single penny of his charity!"
The judge frowned: "Mrs. Murray, please sit down. Considering your financial situation and health condition..."
"I'm certain." I stared directly into Atlas's eyes—surprise and confusion flickered across his face. "I don't want his dirty money. I'd rather starve on the streets."
David stood up. "Please reconsider. Given your condition..."
"SHUT UP!" I turned to him, voice sharp. "I said NO means NO!"
Atlas finally spoke, a mocking smile curling his lips. "If that's the case, suit yourself. But don't you DARE regret it."
"I will NEVER regret it."
Outside the courthouse, autumn wind howled under overcast skies. But this didn't dampen the victors' celebration mood.
Atlas held Sage on the white courthouse steps, smiling at swarming reporters and flashing cameras.
"Justice has been served," Atlas spoke eloquently to the cameras. "Now it's time for all of us to move forward with positivity and love."
Reporters frantically thrust microphones forward:
"Atlas, what's your response to your ex-wife's accusations?"
"Sage, how does finally getting justice feel?"
"Are you two planning to marry soon?"
"I choose to forgive the past and focus on building a beautiful future," Atlas said gently. "Sometimes people go through difficult periods and make poor choices. I hold no grudges."
"We're just grateful the truth finally came out," Sage added sweetly. "Now we can focus on creating better content for our fans. Love you all."
Fans gathered below screamed themselves hoarse: "Atlas! We love you!" "Sage, you're perfect!" "Ultimate couple!"
Someone held banners high: "Atlas is FREE!" "True Love Wins!" "Crazy Ex-Wife Goodbye!" "Toxic People Get Out!"
I slipped away through the courthouse side exit like a sewer rat, dodging reporters' cameras and fans' celebrations. No one noticed the utterly defeated ex-wife, no one cared about this pathetic, fallen woman.
I was invisible. I didn't exist.
Sitting in that beat-up Honda, I watched the grand celebration show through my rearview mirror. My tears had long dried up, leaving only hollow despair echoing silently in my chest.
Turns out I was always the villain in this perfect love story.