Chapter 11 - The Divorce Table
Three months later, Adrian and I sat across from each other again.
This time there was no Vanessa.
No penthouse.
No boardroom.
Just lawyers and a long conference table.
Our divorce settlement was surprisingly simple.
I didn't want Mercer money.
Adrian couldn't touch Ellison assets.
The prenuptial agreement handled most property.
I requested only personal belongings and my mother's jewelry.
Adrian agreed.
Before signing, he looked at me.
“I sold the penthouse.”
I said nothing.
“I couldn't stay there.”
Still nothing.
“I’m getting help.”
That mattered.
But it didn't change my decision.
“Good.”
He nodded.
“I don't expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
A sad smile crossed his face.
“That might be the first thing we've agreed on in months.”
I signed.
He signed.
Three years of marriage ended with ink.
As I stood, Adrian said, “Claire?”
I turned.
“I hope one day the worst thing I did to you isn't the thing you remember most about yourself.”
The sentence surprised me.
Because it wasn't about him.
For once.
I nodded.
May you like
“I won't let it be.”
Then I walked away.
