It´s my fault. Entirely my fault that we´ve been fighting each other since the day that you decided to leave me and run off with that little bitch. So, let me simplify things for you, you piece of shit:
You get the $2M. house in Margarita. You get the 70 f. yacht and the three-story house in The Hamptons. You get our house in Malibu and every car and bike we had, but the one I usually drive when I go there. You get every single fucking wedding gift people sent. You can take the china and the egyptian cotton sheets. You can even take the dog if you want to. You can take the Dali and the Cruz Diez. You can even take my couture wedding dress and auction it on Ebay or have it reduced to a size zero zero so Little Miss Homewrecker can use it... even when she has no fucking idea that she´s wearing a 900.000$ dress, or, for all that matters, does not deserve to be wearing one. If we had kids, you could have them too (yes, I know we don´t have kids because I would have been a terrible mother). You can have the 7 plasma TV sets and the sorround system that came with them. Of course you can take the fucking ugly bean bag chair you loved and didn´t let me get rid of. You can take my jewels and my shoes and do exactly what you are going to do with the dress. You can take my Oscars, my Emmys, my Golden Globes and melt them into a fountain of gold. You can take my degree and use it as rolling paper. All I ask in this divorce settlement is that you give me my heart back.
Idea Original: Mariana Cabbot. (LA MERMA).