Chapter 3
He adjusted his cuff.
“And you’re profitable?”
I nearly laughed.
“I’m touched by your concern.”
“Cassidy.”
“Very.”
“How profitable?”
“Declan, are we really going to spend this flight comparing bank accounts?”
His jaw moved.
“You always hated discussing money.”
“No.
I hated being reminded that yours supposedly made your opinion more important than mine.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Most things sound unfair when accurately remembered.”
He looked toward the window.
For the next twenty minutes, we said nothing.
Then he asked if I had remarried.
“No.”
“Dating anyone?”
“That stopped being your business the morning our divorce was finalized.”
“I’m making conversation.”
“You’ve never made conversation in your life.
You conduct investigations.”
He actually smiled.
Not the smug smile.
A real one.
For one strange second, he looked almost like the man I had married.
And that was somehow worse.
Because I had loved that man desperately.
Before the constant corrections.
Before the dismissive silences.
Before every disagreement became a lesson in how little power I possessed.
Before I discovered that loving someone did not mean disappearing inside them.
Our marriage had not ended with an affair.
Or violence.
Or one spectacular betrayal.
It had died through a thousand quiet humiliations.
Declan deciding which house we would buy without asking me.
Declan instructing our accountant to move my personal investments because he had “better judgment.”
Declan telling friends that my concerns about one of Hawthorne Development’s industrial projects were “Cassidy’s latest crusade.”
Declan laughing when I said I wanted to return to full-time work.
And finally, Declan standing in our kitchen one rainy November night and telling me:
“You have everything a woman could possibly want.
If you’re unhappy, Cassidy, maybe you’re simply someone who doesn’t know how to be satisfied.”
I filed for divorce eleven days later.
He had been stunned.
Then angry.
Then cruel.
He told me I would regret leaving.
Told me I had no idea how hard the real world was.
Told me I had mistaken privilege for personal competence.
So when our attorneys began negotiations, I did something everyone called foolish.
I walked away from almost everything.
I took the money I had brought into the marriage.
Nothing more.
No claim on his company.
No claim on the lake house.
No enormous settlement.
No permanent connection.
My attorney begged me to reconsider.
I didn’t.
Freedom was worth more.
Declan had interpreted that as weakness.
I interpreted it as the first decision I had made entirely for myself in years.