When the Playboy Husband Finally Learned What Love Cost

When I asked for a divorce, Rupert Cavendish was playing with the lace lingerie his mistress had given him as a sign of love.

He sent the hotel room number to the other end before looking at the divorce papers.

“This time it’s pretty serious, my dear wife?”

I calmly answered, “I didn’t touch the card you gave me. I don’t want the house or the car; I already gave them to your lawyer.”

He stopped for two seconds, still thinking I was just acting out.

“You don’t want any of that?”

“Then what do you want? My faithfulness?”