Divorced, Then Priceless

Chapter 2

"Oh my goodness. You look terrible, get in the car."

The voice came from a black Bentley Flying Spur that had pulled up to the curb. Its lustrous body caught the streetlights as the car came to a stop.

The window rolled down slowly, revealing my mother sitting comfortably inside with her hands folded in her lap, her expression was calm but her eyes were sharp. Camille Rowan never needed to raise her voice to make herself heard.

I stood there for a while, the cold wind cutting through my blouse, and my suitcase felt heavier than usual in my hand. A part of me wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her I was fine and that I didn't need rescuing.

But I was tired.

And she already knew everything.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"The same way I always know." She tilted her head toward the back seat. "Get in, Isabelle."

I got in.

The door shut beside me, and the car pulled away from the building. I kept my eyes on the window, I watched the familiar streets disappear behind us.

I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

If I did, I might see the penthouse window and remember the candles I had lit for a dinner he didn't even bother to touch. So I stared straight ahead and listened to the hum of the engine.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. My mother let the silence stretch. That was her way of giving me space without making a fuss or trying to comfort me with words I didn’t need.

I appreciated that, really.

Finally, she asked, "How much does he know?"

"Nothing." I shook my head. "He never bothered to ask."

She made a soft sound under her breath. And, it definitely wasn’t she being surprised. If anything, it sounded closer to disappointment. "I told you this would happen."

"I know."

"You told me I was wrong."

"I know that too."

She glanced at me. "Do you want me to say it?"

I let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. "No. But you're going to say it anyway."

"I told you so," she said quietly. There was no pride in her voice, only the tiredness of a mother who had watched her daughter make the same mistake and already knew how it would end.

I shook my head and looked out the window. The city lights passed by in quick flashes. I used to love this city. I used to think it was where I belonged.

Now, I wasn't sure where I belonged anymore.

"You know," I said, "this is the part where most mothers would hug their daughter and say everything will be okay."

"Would that help?"

"Probably not."

"Then I won't waste your time." She reached into the console and pulled out a small envelope. "A room is ready for you at the estate. Your old room. I had it prepared weeks ago."

I turned to look at her. "Weeks ago?"

"I had a feeling."

"You always have a feeling."

"And I'm always right." She held the envelope out to me. "There is a new phone inside this envelope. It has the family saved already. Your brother's number is first. He has been waiting for you to call. He’s so eager to see you again.”

I took the envelope but didn't open it. "I'm not running home like some wounded child, mum."

"I never said you were running." Her voice softened just slightly. "You are rebuilding, which makes it a difference."

I stared at the envelope in my hands.

Rebuilding.

I wasn’t sure I liked that word.

I had spent four years trying to build a life with Nathaniel. And now I was leaving that life behind.

How was I supposed to start over with nothing but a suitcase and a phone full of numbers I should have called years ago?

"Does anyone know?" I asked. "About the divorce?"

"Not yet. But they will. Your absence from the Brooks household will not go unnoticed for long." She paused. "When they find out, they’ll have questions."

"Then I won't answer them."

"Good."

The car turned onto a long private road lined with old trees. I fully recognized the gates even before I saw them.

The Rowan estate.

It had been years since I'd been here. Years since I'd driven through those gates and pretended I was just a normal woman from a normal family. I had spent my entire marriage trying to hide the truth. I had wanted Nathaniel to love me for who I was, not for what my name could do for him.

What a joke.

The gates slowly opened, and the car drove through. The estate came into view, massive, elegant and familiar. Not much had changed.

"Welcome home," my mother said.

I didn't respond. I wasn't sure if this place still felt like home anymore. But, at least it was safe here. And for now, that was enough.

The car stopped in front of the main house. I reached for the door handle, but before I could step out, my old phone buzzed in my bag.

I paused.

My mother noticed. "Answer it if you must."

I pulled the phone out slowly. The screen glowed in the dark car.

It was a message from Nathaniel.

"Where are you? We need to talk."

I stared at the message for a few seconds.

Dude, seriously??!

After four years of marriage, and now he wanted to talk. What an entitled ingrate.

After I'd signed the papers and walked out.

After he'd left me to sit alone at the dinner table while he was off with Vivian.

I locked my phone.

"You need to decide," my mother said. "Are you going to keep giving him your attention, or are you finally going to take it back?"

I looked at the message one last time. Then I typed my reply.

"No. We don't."

I hit send before I could decide to change my mind. Then I switched off the phone and dropped it back in my bag.

That felt better.

I opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air. The front doors of the estate were open, and the lights from the house spilled across the stone steps. My mother followed me out and stood beside me.

"Your brother is inside," she said. "He wanted to come get you himself, but I told him to wait."

"Why?"

"Because you needed to choose to come back. Not be dragged."

I looked at her. For the first time that night, I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into something close to a smile.

"Thank you," I said.

She nodded once. "Don't thank me yet. The hard part hasn't started."

She walked toward the house, her heels clicking against the stone. I followed slowly, my suitcase rolling behind me. Behind us, the gates closed with a soft metallic sound.

I didn't look back.

But as I reached the steps, I heard my mother say something under her breath. It was so quiet I almost missed it.

"He never deserved you."

I pretended I didn’t hear her. But I felt those words settle somewhere deep in my chest. Maybe now I will start believing them.

The front door opened wider, and a familiar figure stepped out. My older brother, Callum. He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe it had just been four years since I stood this close to him.

"Took you long enough," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "I had a marriage to bury."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Well then. Let's go plan the funeral."

I walked into the house, and for the first time in years, I didn't feel invisible.