Divorced, Then Priceless

Chapter 1

"Why do you keep lying to me, Nathaniel?"

I felt the tears roll down my cheek even before I could stop them. I wiped them away quickly and looked at my husband. The question left my mouth, and I noticed his jaw had tightened. The candlelight flickered across the dining table.

Nathaniel loosened his tie and sighed. He picked up his phone, glanced at it for a few seconds, dropped it back on the table, then he turned toward the window. It was so obvious he didn’t want to have this conversation with me.

“I'm not lying," he said. "The late meetings have always been about work. That's all, really."

"Then why did your assistant tell me you left the office at six?"

His eyes narrowed. "You've been checking up on me now?"

"I called to ask if you'd be home for dinner, and she told me you had already left." I kept my voice calm, but my fingers tightened under the table. "And that was three hours ago, Nathaniel. Where were you?"

"I was handling something important."

"With Vivian?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, his expression was so hard to read. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

"Don't start this again. I’m really not ready for your nonsense," he said quietly.

"I'm not starting anything. I’m asking you a question. The same very question I asked last week and the week before that. Why do you keep lying to me?"

His hand moved toward his phone on the table. It was a small gesture, almost unconscious, but I saw it, I noticed it. After four years of marriage, I knew his little habits. The way he touched the back of his neck when he was annoyed. The way his voice dropped when he was hiding something. The way he looked at his phone when he was waiting for a message from someone who mattered more than the person sitting in front of him.

"I'm not having this conversation again," he said.

"Because you're tired or because you're guilty?" I folded my arms.

His gaze snapped back to me. "Careful, Isabelle."

"Why? What happens if I say it out loud?" My chair scraped against the polished floor as I stood slowly. "That you've been meeting her? That you hide your phone when I walk into the room? That you treat me like a stranger in my own home?"

"You're being paranoid."

"Oh really? Am I?"

"You've always been insecure about Vivian. That's really not my problem."

I laughed quietly, but it came out differently than I expected. I had not laughed in weeks. Pathetic, right? Yes, I know.

"Insecure? That's the same thing you called me last time. And the time before that. It's a convenient word, isn't it? It makes me sound like I’m the problem and you are the victim."

"I never said I was the victim."

"You didn't have to." I moved around the table, my feet silent on the floor. "I've spent four years making excuses for you. For us. I told myself you were busy. I told myself you needed time. I told myself that one day you would look at me the way you look at your company."

Something flickered in his expression. For a brief moment, I thought I saw regret. Or guilt. But it vanished before I could even name it.

"You do matter to me," he said.

"Do I? Then, if you really want me to believe that, tell me the truth. Where were you tonight?"

The room went quiet. Neither of us said anything, again. I could hear a siren somewhere outside, and the candles on the table flickered as I stood there.

Then, I noticed his phone buzz.

There was a notification on the screen.

I moved before he could.

I reached the table first, my fingers closing around the phone. Nathaniel lunged for it, but I stepped back. I was already looking at the screen. The message was from Vivian Shaw. It was short and intimate. The kind of message a woman sends when she is certain of her place in a man's life.

"Same time tomorrow? Last night was perfect."

The words blurred in front of my eyes. I did not cry. I did not scream. I simply stood there, holding the phone, while the last ember of hope inside my chest flickered and died.

Nathaniel snatched the phone from my hand. "It's not what you think, babe."

Babe? Really?!!

This man had never ceased to keep me amazed.

"What is it, then?"

"She's helping me with the merger. That message was about business."

I looked at him. I really looked hard at him. The man I married four years ago. The man I had loved quietly and completely, even when he gave me nothing in return. He was still handsome. Still powerful. Still the center of his own universe.

But I was so done chasing after him.

"Okay," I said.

Nathaniel blinked. "What?"

"I said okay." I turned and walked toward the bedroom, my movements steady and unhurried. I heard his footsteps behind me, and before I could reach the door, his hand caught my elbow.

"Isabelle, wait. Let's talk about this."

I looked down at his hand on my arm, then back up at his face. "You've had four years to talk to me, Nathaniel. You never wanted to. You wanted me to be quiet. To be grateful. To be invisible." I pulled my arm free. "I'm done being invisible. You can have as much fun as you want with your mistress."

I walked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I stood there with my back against it, trying so hard to catch my breath. I had expected to cry. I had expected my hands to shake or my anger to finally get the better of me. Instead, I felt strangely calm.

I went to the closet and pulled out the small suitcase I had packed two weeks ago. It was tucked behind my winter coats, exactly where I had left it. Back then, I had convinced myself I would never actually need it.

Look who’s wrong now?

I changed out of my dress and put on something simpler. A dark blouse, black trousers, and flat shoes. I pulled my blonde hair back and took one last look at myself in the mirror.

I looked tired, maybe a little angry too. But there was something different in my face now. I wasn’t waiting for an explanation anymore. I wasn’t trying to convince myself that things would somehow get better.

I was done!!!

I opened the bedroom door. Nathaniel was still in the hallway, his face pale. I walked past him without saying a word.

He looked down at the suitcase in my hand. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

I stopped at the front door and turned to face him. "I don't know yet. But I do know for a fact that I can't stay here."

"Isabelle, don't be dramatic. We can work this out."

"No," I said quietly. "We can't. You've already made your choice. You just didn't think I'd make mine."

His expression changed, but I didn't wait for him to answer. Not like I needed it anyway.

I set my suitcase down beside me and opened the small drawer in the entryway table. My fingers found the papers almost immediately. I pulled out a folded stack of papers and straightened them.

Divorce papers.

I had prepared them weeks ago, after the first time I found Vivian's name on his phone. Back then, I had convinced myself I would never use them. I had told myself he would change.

I was wrong.

I took the pen from my purse and signed the papers, one after another. I looked up at him. "I've already spoken to a lawyer. Everything is settled. I don't want your money. I don't want the penthouse. I don't want anything from you."

Nathaniel stared at the papers. His face had gone completely still. "You planned this," he whispered.

"No," I said. "I prepared. There's a huge difference."

I picked up my suitcase, opened the door, and walked out. The door clicked shut behind me, and the penthouse fell into silence.

I did not look back.

But as I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, I felt something wet slide down my cheek. I reached up and touched my face.

A single tear.

I wiped it away and straightened my shoulders. I wasn’t going to stand there crying over him.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out.

Behind me, the penthouse was dark. I knew Nathaniel was probably standing alone. I knew he was holding the divorce papers. I knew he would find the ring I had left on the table beside them. He would see the note underneath it, written in the same elegant handwriting he had seen a thousand times before.

"You never saw me. Now you never will."

I took a slow breath and kept walking.

For the first time in four years, I didn’t feel trapped, and I surely wasn’t going back.

I was finally free.