Chapter 7 - THE GHOSTS IN THE HALLWAY
When I arrived at the townhouse,
the police were already there.
Ryan was standing by the bottom of the steps,
looking grimmer than usual.
"What is it?"
I asked,
my voice tight.
"He didn't damage the house,"
Ryan explained.
"But he brought back everything he ever bought you."
"Every gift."
"Every piece of jewelry."
"He dumped it all on the front steps."
But that wasn't all.
He had also spray-painted something on the white marble.
The word "COLD" in massive black letters.
I looked at the pile of luxury items.
Diamond necklaces.
Designer watches.
The very things he used to "prove" his love.
Now they were just trash on the sidewalk.
"He’s losing his mind,
Claire,"
Ryan said.
"The board took away his access to the firm's legal team."
"He’s truly alone now."
I looked at the word on the house.
Cold.
He really believed that was my only flaw.
That my refusal to be emotional made me less of a woman.
He didn't understand that my "coldness" was what kept the company running.
It was what kept us solvent while he was playing around.
"I want it cleaned off,"
I told the police.
"And I want a 24-hour security detail at this address."
"We're filing a report for vandalism,"
the officer said.
"This will help your divorce case."
I walked past the pile of jewelry and into the house.
It felt empty.
The furniture I had ordered removed was gone.
The master bedroom was a bare shell.
I stood in the center of the room,
looking at the floor where the bed used to be.
I felt a sudden,
overwhelming wave of grief.
Not for Michael.
But for the life I thought we had.
I had worked so hard to build this world.
I had sacrificed my time,
my energy,
and my youth for a man who didn't even respect me enough to hide his affairs.
I sat down on the hardwood floor and finally cried.
Not the loud,
dramatic crying people expect.
Just quiet,
steady tears that soaked into the wood.
I cried for the woman who believed in "forever."
I cried for the woman who thought she was a partner.
But after ten minutes,
I stopped.
I wiped my eyes and stood up.
The grief was done.
The mourning period was over.
I walked to the study and opened my laptop.
I had one more email to send.
Not to the board.
Not to Michael.
But to the investors of Michael’s new "start-up" venture.
He thought he could just walk away and start a new company.
He thought he could take his "brilliance" elsewhere.
May you like
He didn't realize that the brilliance was mine.
And I was taking it back.
