There it was.
I had been his wife for less than three days.
He still had not mentioned me.
“You did this because I went to Brielle.”
“No.”
“Stop lying.”
“I did not make your father overleverage Caldwell & Sons.”
Silence.
“I did not make him build a business plan around contracts he did not control.”
“Those contracts were ours.”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“They were never yours.”
“You promised partnership.”
“I provided partnership.”
“For years.”
“Yes.”
“Then you ripped it away overnight.”
“Because overnight, I learned exactly what our relationship meant to you.”
He breathed hard into the phone.
“We can fix this.”
My fingers went still.
“Fix what?”
“Everything.”
“Be specific.”
He hesitated.
That hesitation was more revealing than any confession.
“The marriage.”
I closed my eyes.
“You told me you loved Brielle.”
“I was angry.”
“You left our wedding to be with her.”
“She was having a crisis.”
“You spent the night with her.”
Nothing.
I opened my eyes.
“Didn’t you?”
“That’s private.”
I almost laughed.
“I am your wife.”
“You’re using everything I say against me.”
“No.”
My voice softened.
“I’m finally listening.”
A long silence passed.
Then Preston did something new.
He stopped sounding angry.
“Ellie.”
My stomach tightened.
The old name.
The old key.
“Please.”
I stared at the skyline.
“I made a mistake.”
I said nothing.
“I was overwhelmed.”
Silence.
“The wedding was a lot.”
Silence.
“Brielle was emotional.”
Silence.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
There it was.
Not I should not have betrayed you.
Not I should not have married you while loving someone else.
Not I should not have humiliated you.
I shouldn’t have left.
Because leaving had triggered consequences.
“What do you want, Preston?”
“You.”
The answer came too quickly.
I almost felt pity.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You want access.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You want your father’s company back.”
“That’s impossible now.”
“You want the mansion.”
“I don’t care about the mansion.”
“You screamed when I emptied it.”
“Because you were acting insane.”
I smiled sadly.
“There you are.”
He exhaled.
“Ellie, please.”
“Do you love me?”
Silence.
My eyes burned.
Even after everything, some tiny injured piece of me waited.
Preston finally said, “I can.”
I closed my eyes.
I can.
Not I do.
I can.
As though loving me were a professional skill he might develop if compensation improved.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For finally making this easy.”
“Eleanor.”
“I’ll have my attorney send the separation documents.”
“Don’t.”
“Goodbye, Preston.”
“You can’t just erase me.”
My hand froze above the phone.
He continued.
“I’m your husband.”
“You stopped behaving like one before the ink on our marriage license dried.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
The question stunned me.
Not because he had nowhere.
Because he had Brielle.
“Go to the woman you love.”
He did not answer.
And suddenly, I knew.
“What happened?”
