Chapter 18
Chapter 18:
Nathan arrived at 1:45, fifteen minutes early, looking freshly pressed and aggressively optimistic. He’d gotten a haircut. Bought new shoes. Was wearing the cologne I’d given him for our first anniversary.
The performance of a reformed man. It might have been convincing if I hadn’t spent ten years learning to read his tells.
“Vivian.” He tried to take my hands as I opened the door. I stepped back, leading him to the living room. “You look… better. Rested p>
Rested. As if my appearance was the only thing that had changed.
“Sit down, Nathan p>
He sat, still smiling, still radiating confidence. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and you’re right—I should have been more present. More supportive. When we get back to Marsten Bay, I’m going to take some time off work, really focus on us. We can renovate the nursery, try again when you’re ready p>
“I want a divorce p>
His smile flickered. “Viv, we talked about this p>
“No. You talked. I listened. Now it’s my turn.” I pushed the folder across the coffee table. “This is everything. Bank records showing transfers to Meredith. Hotel receipts. Text messages. Photos. A signed statement from Trevor confirming your relationship started in college and never really ended p>
He opened the folder. His face went grey.
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“The original agreement I left you was generous,” I continued. “I was in shock. I wasn’t thinking clearly. This version is… more accurate. I want half of everything. The apartment. The savings. The car. Whatever we built together, we split down the middle p>
“This is—you can’t—” He was flipping through pages, his hands shaking. “Vivian, this will destroy me. If this gets out, my reputation, my job p>
“Then sign quickly.” I crossed my arms. “Sign quietly. And maybe I’ll be persuaded to keep it private p>
The mask finally cracked. His face contorted, red and ugly, and for a moment I saw the real Nathan underneath—not the charming boyfriend, not the devoted husband, but the selfish, spoiled child who had never learned that other people weren’t just supporting characters in his story.
“Don’t be ungrateful!” He was shouting now, on his feet, the folder scattering across the floor. “I gave you everything! I took care of you! I married you when I could have had anyone p>
“You married me because Meredith married someone else first.” My voice was ice. “Everyone knows it. Trevor knows it. The only person who ever believed otherwise was me, and I’ve been cured of that particular delusion p>
He stared at me, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. For a moment—just a moment—I wondered if he might actually hit me.
But Nathan Calloway had never been brave enough for that kind of commitment. He deflated like a punctured balloon, his rage collapsing into something that looked almost like grief.
“All men make mistakes,” he said weakly. “You’re supposed to forgive p>
“No.” I stood up. “I’m supposed to protect myself. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I gestured toward the door. “Sign the papers, Nathan. Or don’t—and watch everything you’ve built become public knowledge. Your choice p>
He left without signing. But he took the folder with him.
Progress, I thought. Slow, painful, but real.
Progress.