Chapter 5
Julian’s attorney had sent a revised proposal.
Fifty percent of the liquid marital assets instead of sixty.
Hawthorne Manor to Julian.
My investments untouched.
No claim against Mercer Holdings.
I called my attorney, Evelyn Shaw.
“You saw it?” she asked.
“I did.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Reject it.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“Claire, Julian’s side seems to think you’re negotiating emotionally.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
“Then tell them sixty.”
“And if they refuse?”
“Then we disclose everything, value everything, and take as long as necessary.”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“There’s the woman I remember.”
I hadn’t spoken to her in nearly five years.
She had represented me before Julian and I married, when everyone around us insisted a prenuptial agreement was unnecessary because neither of us had anything.
Evelyn had insisted otherwise.
Not because she distrusted Julian.
Because she believed women should understand every document carrying their name.
That lesson had stayed with me.
By noon, Julian called again.
This time, I answered.
“What?”
“Finally.”
“You said things were getting out of control.”
“They are.”
“Then control them.”
Silence.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“That photograph is everywhere.”
“So?”
“She didn’t move into Hawthorne permanently.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
I hated myself for caring about the distinction.
“Julian, she carried luggage into my house less than twenty-four hours after I left.”
“Our house.”
“Not anymore.”
He exhaled.
“Her name is Sophie Lane.”
I closed my eyes.
I hadn’t wanted a name.
Names made people real.
“I told you I didn’t want to know.”
“She had nowhere else to go.”
“That sounds unfortunate.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You’re acting like none of this affects you.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
For the first time since Charleston, anger came cleanly.
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“Do you want me to perform my pain for you?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Should I send photographs every time I cry?”
He went silent.
“Would that help, Julian? Would it make this easier if you knew exactly how badly you hurt me?”
“No.”
“Then stop asking me to prove it.”
His voice softened.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“That sentence is something people say after making choices they knew would hurt someone.”
“I didn’t plan this.”
“You fell in love accidentally?”
Another silence.
I looked through the cottage window at rain sliding down the glass.
Finally, Julian said, “Sophie makes me feel like myself again.”