Chapter 7 - The Final Signature
The next morning,
the news was everywhere.
"The Harrell Heiress Returns."
"Reed Group Stocks Plunge to Zero."
"The Mistress Scandal of the Pierre Hotel."
I sat in the library of my father's estate,
drinking tea.
The navy dress had been burned in the fireplace the night before.
A knock came at the door.
It was my father's lawyer.
"He’s outside,
Miss Harrell,"
the lawyer said.
"He’s begging to see you."
"Bring him in,"
I said,
not looking up from my book.
Spencer walked in,
but he wasn't the man I had married.
His hair was a mess.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His suit was wrinkled and stained.
"Phoebe,"
he whispered,
dropping to his knees.
"Please."
"Tell your father to stop the liquidation."
"I’ll do anything."
"I’ll leave Paisley."
"I’ll buy you a thousand dresses."
I looked at him,
and for the first time,
I felt nothing.
No anger.
No sadness.
Just a profound sense of boredom.
"You still don't get it,
do you,
Spencer?"
"It was never about the dresses."
"It was about the fact that you never saw me."
I pushed a stack of papers across the desk.
"Sign them."
"What is this?"
he asked,
his hands trembling as he picked up the pen.
"Divorce papers,"
I said.
"And a full confession of your embezzlement of the Harrell trust funds you thought I didn't know about."
Spencer froze.
"I...
I didn't steal anything."
"My father’s forensic accountants say otherwise,"
I replied.
"You sign these,
give up every asset you have left,
and we don't call the District Attorney."
"Or,
you walk out that door and go straight to prison."
Spencer looked at the pen.
He looked at me.
Then he signed.
He signed away his company,
his house,
and his freedom.
"Now,"
I said,
standing up.
May you like
"Get out of my house."
"You're only embarrassing me."
