I didn’t think I needed a pre-nup. Then my husband left me…and I realised he could take half my savings, says EVE SIMMONS

I’ve never seen my mother as angry as when I announced at age 11 that my ultimate goal was to marry a rich man.

Furious that I had not adopted her feminist stance, she replied bluntly, “No, if you want to be rich, you have to make money for yourself. Never rely on a man for money.”

It’s a motto I’ve striven to live by. It meant that I took pride in being the breadwinner for the duration of my nine-year relationship—until it ended abruptly, just six months after I tied the knot at age 31, when my fiancé announced that he didn’t want to get married after all.

Certainly not for me.

As the heartbreak entangled my brain with despair, I assumed that the details of our separation would at least be simple after such a short marriage. What was mine was mine, and what was his was his. But I was wrong.

A series of unusually callous emails from my husband informed me that he was legally entitled to half of everything I had. Savings, pension, investments and, most worryingly, the lump sum my mother had contributed to our three-bedroom semi-detached house. My mother’s hard-earned savings were ‘a shared gift’ – and therefore I had no legal right to claim them back.

Even though we both contributed the same amount of our own money and made the same monthly mortgage payments, borrowing that much money would never have been possible without my salary. I called a family friend, a divorce lawyer at one of London’s top law firms. Surely he was wrong? Her reply: “He’s right – you didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement.”

I was embarrassingly naive about money during our relationship. Like many heterosexual couples, he took on the role of financial and life manager.

I had always worked long, meticulous hours, making things like mortgage phone calls nearly impossible during the day. He had more free time — and said he didn’t mind our meeting.

Unfortunately, this also meant that he could claim that my mother’s money had been ‘spent’, and I had no way of arguing with him.

Like most engaged couples with a strong desire for marriage, we were allergic to the word “pre-nup.” We assumed it was only necessary for people who a) were secretly planning an eventual breakup or b) had a ton of money.

How stupid I was. It’s not just the financial losses (or rather, my mother’s) that hurt. But maybe, if there was some common ground, I would have been spared the trauma of dealing with a husband I barely recognized.

Negotiating about money can bring out the worst side of people you used to think were decent. Expect to witness your former lover metamorphose into an extraterrestrial alien who talks to you like you’re his slightly clumsy accountant. Be prepared for phrases like, “Can you please do the following,” and “as I was saying before.”

And all this from the person who just a few months ago wiped the smudged eyeliner from your face and hung your underwear on the washing line.

Now, two years later, I have become the death knell for marriage among my friends, who raise an eyebrow at every mention of marriage and ask about their savings portfolios. You never know what someone is really capable of, I tell them. Cynical as it may sound, I couldn’t help but be relieved to learn that the vast majority of Britons are in favor of prenuptial agreements.

According to a survey by a London law firm, 66 percent of adults believe that financial agreements have a positive impact.

More and more couples are choosing to do so: according to the most recent poll, the percentage of couples has risen from just 1.5 percent in the 1970s to 17 percent today.

But I don’t think that number is high enough (sorry, romantics). As more and more women outearn their male partners, with 25 percent of married couples having a female breadwinner in 2020, we need to protect ourselves.

I bet most of these women have had to overcome more obstacles than their male colleagues in their quest for a suitable salary.

Many have risen to the top of their game while also doing the lion’s share of housework and childcare. But the sad reality is that after all the fights for equal pay, a man could very well take away half of your success if you tried to divorce him.

Divorce lawyers tell me that high-income female clients are shocked to hear that this is a possibility. ‘Popular culture tells us that divorce is about men getting screwed financially,’ says David Brown, a divorce lawyer at the Leicestershire law firm Wartnaby Hefford.

“But that’s only because men historically earn more money, which is no longer always the case. Too often clients wrongly assume that the financial distribution is based on gender.”

Traditionally, divorce agreements were written this way to protect women who were often not financially independent, but had sole childcare responsibilities. This is still sometimes the case, but less and less. In the modern world, such a standard seems outdated and wrong.

Fortunately, my husband decided not to go after my savings and pension, possibly because the legal fees involved weren’t worth it, or maybe because deep down he knew it would be wrong.

But with a hefty student loan to pay off, I had less money than he did when it came to buying our individual properties. I lived in my mother’s apartment for a year to save up for a down payment.

Would I have kept my mother’s savings if I had asked for a prenup? The answer is probably, although it still wouldn’t be guaranteed.

A prenuptial agreement is essentially a contract or deed signed by both parties before they get married. It sets out the details of how the finances will be divided in the event of a divorce.

The cost is on average between £1,000 and £5,000 in legal fees. Ultimately, however, they are not legally binding in the UK. ‘A judge makes the final decision on who gets what in a divorce. If they don’t agree with the terms of the prenuptial agreement, they won’t enforce it,’ Brown explains.

This is because old prenuptial agreements are no longer considered fair or relevant if circumstances change, for example if children are born or employment changes occur.

“A prenuptial agreement should be updated after the birth of each child and approximately every five years to give it the best chance,” Brown advises.

In cases like mine, where the marriage lasts less than three years and there are no children involved, a prenuptial agreement is likely to be upheld.

“The court will also want to see that the contract was drawn up at least a few months before the marriage and that both parties have obtained independent legal advice,” Brown said.

There is a common misconception that prenuptial agreements are only for the wealthy. In fact, anyone with more than £10,000 in savings – around double the cost of obtaining the document – ​​can benefit from one.

“A couple of thousand pounds for a prenup is considerably less than the £5,000 to £6,000 in lawyers’ fees that it would cost you to fight for your money through the courts,” says Brown. “It’s better than nothing.” Perhaps the most astonishing fact I learned about divorce during my uncoupling was that, even decades after your divorce is final, an ex can still claim rights to your financial assets — prenup or no prenup.

The most important thing is that there is a “full and final settlement” or consent decree so that no future claims can be filed by either party.

In a high-profile case, a woman was awarded half a million pounds of her ex-husband’s fortune 30 years after their divorce. He spent their marriage living in a caravan with virtually no disposable income, but made several million from business deals a decade after their divorce.

If I didn’t have a family friend who works in the legal industry, I would never have known that there is a standard contract that prohibits this, called a consent decree.

This is a simple document, costing around £1,000 to £2,000, and it essentially takes away both parties’ rights to any income they receive after the divorce.

If it weren’t for my consent order, my ex-husband might be entitled to 50 percent of the proceeds from my upcoming book about my divorce. And how ironic would that be.