Chapter 20
Chapter 20:
The lawyer’s office was aggressively beige. Neutral tones everywhere—cream walls, taupe carpet, the kind of inoffensive art that exists specifically to be forgotten. I sat across from a woman named Patricia Chen, Esq., whose business card promised “Aggressive Advocacy for Women in Transition,” and explained exactly what I wanted.
“Everything I’m legally entitled to,” I said. “Half the assets. The apartment. Fair division of savings. And I want it done fast p>
She made notes in precise handwriting. “Given the evidence you’ve provided—and it’s comprehensive, Ms. Ashford, I’m impressed—I don’t anticipate significant resistance. Does your husband have counsel p>
“Not yet. He’s still convinced I’ll change my mind p>
A thin smile crossed her face. “They usually are p>
The call came two days later—not from Nathan, but from his attorney, a man whose voice dripped with the particular condescension of someone who assumed women could be reasoned out of inconvenient decisions.
“My client is prepared to agree to your terms,” he said. “In full. He’d like to expedite the proceedings p>
I blinked. “All of them p>
“All of them p>
Something wasn’t right. Nathan had been ready to burn everything down rather than admit defeat. Why the sudden reversal?
Lᴬtєѕτ chᴀρτєrs ιn
The answer arrived that afternoon, via Harper, who’d been monitoring Meredith’s social media with the dedication of a forensic investigator.
Check this out, she texted, along with a screenshot.
It was a photo posted near the civil registry office. Meredith, her hand resting on her stomach, her smile radiant. Nathan beside her, looking slightly dazed.
She was pregnant. Or claiming to be.
Of course, I thought. Of course that’s what changed his mind.
Nathan Calloway, despite everything—despite the affairs and the lies and the absolute wasteland he’d made of his marriage—still saw himself as a good man. A responsible man. The kind of man who wouldn’t let his child grow up without a father.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Because I remembered something from my research. A detail I’d filed away without fully understanding its significance. Meredith’s first husband had left her after three years of trying, and failing, to conceive. Multiple doctors. Multiple treatments. The final diagnosis: unexplained infertility.
So how exactly was she pregnant now?
Well, I thought, tucking that piece of information away for later. Everyone deserves a wedding gift.
The weeks between filing and finalizing were the most productive I’d had in years.
I updated my résumé. Applied to six companies. Got callbacks from four. Accepted an offer from my first choice—a marketing firm with a reputation for promoting women and a benefits package that included actual mental health coverage.
I started running again. Not far, not fast, but enough to remember what it felt like to live in my body instead of just surviving in it.
I read books. Cooked meals. Called my mother every Sunday. Slowly, carefully, began to excavate the person I’d been before Nathan Calloway had become the center of my universe.
She was still there, it turned out. Buried, but not gone.
The day of the divorce finalization, I wore red.
It wasn’t planned, exactly—I’d just reached into my closet and grabbed the first thing that didn’t look like mourning clothes. But standing in front of the mirror, the fabric bright against my skin, I realized it was perfect. Red for anger. Red for passion. Red for the beginning of something new.
Nathan, by contrast, looked like he’d aged ten years overnight. His suit was rumpled. His eyes were shadowed. When the clerk handed me my copy of the divorce certificate—that single sheet of paper that represented the end of everything we’d built together—I felt something close to joy bubble up in my chest.
Free, I thought. I’m actually free.
I must have been smiling, because Nathan’s voice cut through my thoughts, quiet and confused.
“Vivian. Are you… happy p>
I looked at him. This man I’d loved for a decade. This man I’d married and planned a future with and lost a pregnancy over. This stranger.
“I’m starting a new life, Nathan. Why wouldn’t I be happy p>
I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope I’d prepared. His wedding gift. The documentation of Meredith’s fertility history, complete with doctor’s reports and insurance claims.
“I know we’re ending things,” I said, pressing it into his hands, “but I wish you both the best. Truly p>
His eyebrows rose. Suspicion flickered across his face.
Good.
Through the window of my father’s car, I caught a glimpse of Meredith standing on the sidewalk, glaring at me with enough venom to kill a small animal. I smiled. Waved. Put on my sunglasses.
Then I drove away and didn’t look back.