Ten Years Married, One Day Divorced

"Mr. Lawson just tore up the divorce agreement." Thompson's voice came through the phone. I was sitting in the VIP lounge at the airport, watching flights take off and land beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Did he see the ring?" I asked. "He did," Thompson sighed. "Mr. Lawson says you're throwing a tantrum. He told me to tell you he has an important business dinner tonight, so you should stop acting out." I looked down at the boarding pass in my hand. "Got it. Thanks, Thompson." I had barely hung up when Jack's name lit up my screen. The caller ID still said Hubby— a contact name he had saved himself ten years ago. I answered. "Tamara Lawrence, what the hell are you doing?" His voice was tight with irritation. "Didn't Thompson explain it clearly enough? A divorce agreement? You think you can scare me with that garbage?" He let out a cold, sharp laugh. "The company is about to go public. I'm drowning in work from the second I wake up until I pass out. Can you cut me some slack for once?" "I am cutting you slack," I said, glancing at the boarding gate. "I hired a lawyer. You don't even have to make time for this." The line went dead for a beat. Then a bright, chirpy female voice cut in. "Babe, this tie does not match my dress at all. Can you swap it for the blue one?" Kate Anderson. Female director from Jack's company. The same woman who had posted my mother's last keepsake on her feed just to show it off. Jack muffled the mic. His voice came through distant and low. "Wait for me in the car, okay? I'll be right there." When he came back, his tone had softened into something sickly sweet and forced. "Tamara, Kate is just acting casually. She sees me as a brother, and I only think of her as a buddy. Nothing more. That bracelet—I really did lose it by accident. The one she posted? I bought an identical one to make it up to her for losing a big client." I listened to that perfectly rehearsed lie roll out without a single stutter and felt absolutely nothing. "Identical?" "Yeah, exactly the same." He sounded so sure of himself, like he actually believed it. "Stop being jealous over nothing, alright?" "Jack," I cut him off. "There's a name engraved on the inside of that bracelet." The silence was so heavy you could cut it with a knife. That bracelet was the last thing my mother gave me before she died. One word was carved inside: Susan, her first name, and in the close-up Kate posted last night, that tiny engraving was crystal clear. "Tamara, I—" For a second, he sounded panicked. Only a second. "Jack! Hurry! Mr. Philip is rushing us!" Kate whined impatiently in the background. Jack sucked in a sharp breath. "I'll explain when I get home. Right now, you need to unfreeze the custom client list under your name immediately." There it was. Finally getting to the real reason for the call. "The roadshow is next week. Are you trying to ruin me by freezing the list right now?" I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and pulled it to my side. "Those are my private clients. They are not company assets." "Tamara!" he snapped, his voice shooting up. "We're married! What's yours is mine! Are you really going to drag this out over a stupid bracelet?" "Stupid bracelet," I echoed quietly. We had known each other for nineteen years, ever since we were classmates. Ten of those years as husband and wife. My mom treated him like her own son. She held his hand on her deathbed and asked him to take care of me. And now the only thing I have left of her is just a "stupid bracelet" to him. "Jack, I'm not unfreezing that list," I reiterated. "You wouldn't dare!" "I'm about to board. If you don't sign the agreement, we'll settle it in court." He laughed, so furious he could barely get the words out. "Fine. You've gotten bold, huh? If you get on that plane today, don't you ever set foot in our house again!" I hung up and blocked his number. The final boarding call for Milan blared through the lounge. I turned and walked straight onto the jet bridge without looking back. Jack, I don't want this home anymore. I don't want you anymore, either.