Chapter 1 ---When I fall, I find my feet
I collapse onto the floor in the mid-class, but I regain consciousness before ambulance arrives and refuse to be taken to the ER. They require me to call my husband for pick up, or sign myself out. So, I did, apologize to my students and walk out the lecture theater. I have a husband, but I have no idea where he is.
The next day, my psychiatrist gives me an emergency appointment.
"your anxiety attack happens out of nowhere, your relationship has heavily effected your mentally and physically, and suggest I should rethink if this relationship is right for me."if I refuse to take depression medication then I should seek further consultation with a psychologist or counselor.
I tell her plainly: if the marriage remains, no amount of medication or consultation could fix me, I do need a solution but not the medication. Second, a drawn-out divorce battle will burn me out completely. That is why I need to fix myself, not fix or end the marriage right now.
"Dr, I can tell you every detail about my healthy, but the marriage has been dressed up by my husband and I who used to fall in the love and trap. Now it's time to wake up be Claire Hale.
She looks at me steadily and adds, "You teach international strategic analysis at the university, an expert in strategic conflict. You know human nature never changes. It applies to relations between nations, and to every personal relationship alike. At the heart of any battle lie only three things: money, power, and position."
I meet her gaze and answer calmly, "You're right. Throughout human battle history, those who start the conflict must end up in the vulnerable position. Let the rightful side stand tall."
"By the way Dr, May I get sleep pill, my insomnia is getting worsen"
"Sure, take care!"
She was given two weeks break by the colleague. When she returns her office to gather her belongs, a Chinese student stops her in the hallway.
"Mr Hale, I can't ask your personal issues, but I want to share some words from my mum –your soul's longings foretell the destiny of your fate, you've told us anything can be solved by the strategy, time and desire. We all wish you all the best."
My eyes instantly fill with tears when I receive those words from my student. I walk out with energy and head up
Chapter 2 Fool the sky to cross the sea
I get home after dark. Kevin is still out.
Unlike all other nights, I walk straight out to the backyard and look at the lush, thriving flowers and plants. Every single one of them we planted with our own hands.
Flowers and plants are always more faithful than people. What you sow is what you get.
Weeds always grow with the flowers, but they never cover the beauty of the plants.
I pull out the weeds. It's like cleaning my mess.
When I finish, I feel so fresh.
It's time to clean inside, totally clean.
I go back inside and start a thorough, unsparing de-clutter.
As I tidy up the bookshelf, a book falls and hits my foot.
The Art of War — it is the first book my professor gave me when I entered college. It is the book I read a million times, it's the treasure for me and humankind. It can help you solve the most personal and country issues .
Is this book meant something to me?
Yes, it is. The Art of War.
I laugh out loud to myself.
I return to my study and pull down the hidden whiteboard on the wall.
I write boldly across the top: The Art of War.
On the second line, I put the name of my so-called husband: Kevin.
Around his name, I jot down his key details—job, income, and the critical moments over the years when he betrayed our marriage.
I draw an arrow to the final goal at the bottom: Divorce.
Simple, clean divorce.
In other words, I must make Kevin the one to file for divorce. I will expose his fake face to the light, so the process becomes quick and straightforward.
Target 2: Split all assets fifty-fifty. If the evidence is solid, push for a larger share—my share.
Target 3: Minimize all harm to myself. Health comes first. A fast, efficient divorce is the end goal.
Below the goals, I list the steps to get there.
Hire a private detective. Find out exactly how many mistresses he has.
I will let those women expose each other, turn them against one another, and drag Kevin into the mess.
Let him run ragged between them. If it comes to that, I don't care if the whole world finds out.
If he has no shame left, why should I hold onto decency?
From this moment on, separate.
Under Australian law, we must live apart for twelve full months before divorce.
I use insomnia as the reason—not that it's an excuse. I really cannot sleep.
I will move to separate beds.
And I will make this separation public. Witnesses: his parents, my friends, our mutual friends.
Oh, right. I need to call Kevin.
I pick up the phone and dial.
"Kevin, I can't sleep again tonight. Pick up a few bottles of vodka and bring them home."
His concerned voice comes at once. "Don't drink hard liquor. You already can't sleep, and mixing it with sleeping pills is bad for you.
If you can't rest, I'll sleep in the guest room tonight instead."
"Perfect. Thank you."
I hit the record button at the same time.
Game start.
I keep working after hanging up the phone.
His mistresses are only a small part of the shit in our marriage.
A man who can't control his penis, especially someone like Kevin, who thinks he's good-looking, sexy, powerful, and rich, it's only normal that he can't stay faithful.
I don't care how many there are.
What matters is whether any of these mistresses hold claims to our marital assets, and that's the key part the private detective must look into.
Second, asset division.
I own two properties that I bought before we got married.
Of course, they can be counted as marital assets if that's how it works under the law.
I don't mind at all, because our shared marital properties already include four houses in Melbourne and other cities.
But I know Kevin works as a home builder, which gives him easy access to land deals.
He definitely owns far more than just the four houses we share.
He must have hidden others, and some may even be held under his parents' names.
How do I find out?
In a few days, I'll use tax filing as an excuse.
I'll offer to help them sort out their taxes and dig into the truth quietly.
As for the assets, I only want what is rightfully mine.
I want nothing to do with any other tainted wealth.
I won't even bother chasing it.
Let it rot in Kevin's hands.
Third, the petitioner for divorce.
Under Australian law, whoever files for divorce is the one who submits all evidence and covers most of the legal fees.
If I can uncover all of Kevin's mistresses and the hidden assets, he will choose to protect his wealth, not our marriage—that's just who he is.
When that time comes, he will almost certainly be the one to file, or we will negotiate a mutual divorce.
Either way, it will be a clean divorce.
Of course, circumstances can shift at any time.
I'll just adapt as I go.