Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Signature In The Rain
The rain came down hard over Manhattan the morning my marriage ended, cold enough to sting every strip of skin the umbrella failed to cover.
Harrison tilted that umbrella toward Khloe, leaving my entire right shoulder exposed while she pressed herself against him as though she were the one standing there with five years of her life folded inside a legal envelope.
“Caroline, this is the divorce settlement.”
His voice was calm, almost impatient.
“Just sign it.”
Khloe glanced at me for half a second, and something bright and victorious flashed behind her carefully softened expression.
Then she lowered her eyes and leaned closer to my husband.
“Harrison, do you think Caroline will hate me?”
He rubbed her back.
“She won’t.”
His fingers moved over the expensive wool of her coat with a tenderness I had not felt from him in more than a year.
“You can’t force love.”
Then he looked at me.
“Over the years, you turned into a corporate machine, Caroline.”
The words should have hurt more than they did.
Maybe I had heard versions of them too many times already.
“The spark between us died a long time ago,” he continued.
“Khloe is different.”
Khloe looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes.
“She understands me.”
His hand settled possessively at her waist.
“She needs me.”
That was the difference, apparently.
Khloe needed him.
I never had.
At least, that was the story Harrison had told himself.
I took the settlement papers from his attorney beneath the courthouse awning and flipped through pages I already knew by heart.
The Brooklyn brownstone went to Harrison.
The Tesla went to Harrison.
The joint savings account would be divided seventy-thirty in his favor.
His explanation for that particular generosity to himself had almost made my lawyer laugh when she first heard it.
Caroline is career-driven.
Caroline has stronger earning potential.
Caroline is capable enough to recover.
I stared at the numbers for several seconds.
Not because losing them hurt.
Because they told me exactly how little the man standing in front of me understood about the woman he had slept beside for five years.
“Pen,” I said.
Harrison froze.
It was only for a second, but I saw it.
He had expected tears.
He had expected questions.
Maybe he had expected me to beg.
Khloe recovered first and opened her designer handbag.