Chapter 7 - When My Husband Came Crawling Back
Felix arrived at my house on Saturday morning carrying flowers.
Yellow tulips.
Of course.
The same flowers he brought to our second date.
For a moment, seeing them through the security camera made something inside my chest ache.
Then I remembered the photograph of him kissing Sabrina.
The feeling passed.
I opened the door.
"Hello, Felix."
He looked terrible.
His hair was disheveled.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes.
He wore the gray sweater I had given him for his birthday the previous year.
"Can we talk?"
"About the divorce?"
"About us."
I glanced at the flowers.
"Us?"
He swallowed.
"Please, Nora."
I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me.
Felix stared at the empty living room through the window.
"Did you buy anything yet?"
"A few things."
"You shouldn't have to live like this."
I almost laughed.
He continued.
"I've been thinking. Maybe we moved too fast."
"We?"
He winced.
"Okay. Maybe I moved too fast."
I folded my arms.
"What changed?"
"Everything's complicated right now."
"Yes, I've noticed."
"Mom's under a lot of stress. The business has been struggling, and I think she influenced some of my decisions."
"Some?"
He looked down.
"I shouldn't have said those things to you."
For eight years, I had wanted Felix to acknowledge Lucia's behavior.
Now, standing on my porch, he was finally doing it.
And all I could think was that his apology had arrived suspiciously close to Bellwether's financing deadline.
"What are you asking me, Felix?"
He handed me the flowers.
I didn't take them.
"Come on, Nora. Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Cold."
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I asked the question that had been waiting in my chest since Rachel sent the photograph.
"How long have you been involved with Sabrina?"
Every trace of color disappeared from his face.
"What?"
"Sabrina Cole."
"She's a coworker."
"Felix."
He looked toward the street.
Then back at me.
"It's not what you think."
"I saw the photograph."
He froze.
"What photograph?"
"The one outside Bellavista."
He rubbed his face.
"That was complicated."
"Apparently, everything is."
"Nora, listen—"
"How long?"
He didn't answer.
I waited.
Finally, he whispered, "Four months."
I felt the words settle.
Four months.
The weekend trips.
The financial accusations.
The sudden emotional distance.
He had been planning his new life long before he announced that I contributed nothing.
"Was leaving me your idea or Lucia's?"
He looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"Mom thought we needed space."
"Did Sabrina think so, too?"
"Nora, that's unfair."
I laughed once.
"Unfair?"
He stepped closer.
"It wasn't serious."
"Four months, Felix."
"I made a mistake."
"Was she a mistake when you kissed her outside your mother's celebration dinner?"
He stopped.
The tulips drooped in his hand.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said something extraordinary.
"I never stopped loving you."
I studied the man standing before me.
Once, those words would have been enough.
Once, I would have searched his face for sincerity and convinced myself that there was still something worth saving.
But love had become a word Felix used whenever he wanted something from me.
"Then why did you let your mother humiliate me?"
He opened his mouth.
No answer came.
"Why did you call my career worthless?"
"I was frustrated."
"Why did you remove our bedroom furniture?"
"Mom said—"
"Felix."
He stopped.
I lowered my voice.
"For once, please finish a sentence without bringing your mother into it."
He stared at me.
Then his expression changed.
A flash of anger.
"You know what? I came here trying to make peace, but you always do this."
"Do what?"
"Make me feel like the villain."
I stepped backward.
"You came here with flowers after admitting you had an affair. What response were you expecting?"
He threw the tulips onto the porch.
"Fine. You want the truth?"
"Please."
"The company needs money. Mom's house is at risk. Mine too, if this goes badly. And you're sitting in a property we could sell for enough to fix everything."
There it was.
The real reason for his visit.
Not love.
Not regret.
Not a sudden appreciation of our marriage.
Money.
I looked at the flowers on the ground.
"Thank you for finally being honest."
His shoulders dropped.
"Nora, I don't want Mom to lose her home."
"Neither do I."
"Then help us."
"You should contact your lenders and obtain proper financial advice."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
His voice cracked.
"Please. I'm desperate."
I felt a brief, painful flicker of compassion.
Felix wasn't entirely pretending.
He was frightened.
The consequences of his choices were beginning to become real.
But his fear did not entitle him to my security.
"Did you know someone used my signature on the financing authorization?" I asked.
He looked away.
"Felix."
"Mom said it was just a preliminary document."
"Did you know I hadn't signed it?"
His silence answered more than his words could have.
I took a slow breath.
"Please leave."
"Nora—"
"Communicate through Evelyn."
I went inside.
Locked the door.
And watched through the camera as Felix stood on the porch for almost five minutes.
He eventually picked up the tulips.
Then he left.
At noon, Rachel called.
"Felix was at your house?"
"Yes."
"Did he apologize?"
"Eventually."
She hesitated.
"Did he tell you about the loan?"
"He wants me to sell the house."
Rachel muttered something unrepeatable.
Then her voice softened.
"Nora, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
"Go ahead."
"Aunt Lucia has been showing people old photographs of you and telling them you secretly inherited millions."
I blinked.
"What?"
"She says you've been pretending to be poor to humiliate Felix."
I laughed in disbelief.
That was new.
For eight years, Lucia claimed I was a penniless burden.
Now that my separate financial circumstances were becoming impossible to ignore, she had apparently changed her story.
I wasn't worthless anymore.
I was deceitfully wealthy.
"Which version does she prefer?" I asked.
"I don't think she cares as long as you're the bad guy."
Rachel paused.
"She also says she's going to expose you publicly."
I looked at my phone.
"Let her."
That evening, Lucia posted a long message on Facebook.
She didn't mention me by full name, but everyone who knew our family understood.
It began with a declaration about ungrateful daughters-in-law and men who sacrifice everything for their wives.
Then came a photograph of Felix beside her.
The caption accused a certain woman of concealing assets, manipulating her marriage, and attempting to ruin a struggling family business.
By midnight, the post had dozens of comments.
Some people believed her.
Others asked questions.
Vanessa replied publicly:
Mom, please stop discussing Felix's marriage online. This isn't appropriate.
Lucia deleted the comment.
Rachel saved screenshots.
I said nothing.
But Evelyn contacted me the following morning.
"I've reviewed the post. Keep documenting it, but don't respond emotionally."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good. Because there may be a more pressing issue."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Northbridge's compliance team has asked whether you'd be willing to participate in a formal interview concerning the disputed authorization."
"Of course."
"There's something else. Their review identified an earlier submission."
"Earlier?"
"Yes. The document you've seen may not be the first time someone used information associated with you."
I sat down.
"How much earlier?"
Evelyn paused.
"Eleven months."
Eleven months.
Long before Felix's weekend at Lucia's house.
Long before our final argument.
Long before the moving truck.
May you like
I stared at the wall.
And suddenly understood that while I had spent the last six months preparing to survive my husband's departure, someone else had been preparing an entirely different kind of exit.
