Chapter 3
Brian's weak spot was always his mother.
And the only reason she was alive was that my mom saved her life.
He'd never be able to pay that kind of favor back, no matter what.
Brian shot Michael a fierce glare, then turned to me, his eyes burning with anger, bitterness, and a flicker of panic I'd never seen before.
"Claire, do you have to make such a mess out of this?" Brian snapped.
I looked at him, and suddenly it all just seemed so laughable.
I made such a mess?
Was it a mess when you were out partying with your side chick, while I was holding our daughter in the ER, praying she'd survive the night?
"Brian, sign the papers," I said.
I was done talking to him.
Every second here was torture and a brutal reminder of how naive I was these past three years.
Brian slammed the divorce papers onto the table hard.
He barked, "I won't sign it! Over my dead body!
"I built Kingston Sutton Investments from the ground up. Why the hell should you get a piece of it?"
Jeremy calmly added, "Mr. Kingston, according to the evidence we've gathered, you illegally transferred joint marital assets into Kingston Sutton Investments multiple times after you got married.
"We have every reason to file for a court order to force asset division. If it comes to that, you might end up losing way more than just 51%."
Brian's breath caught.
He locked his gaze on me, searching my face for any sign of weakness, any crack he could exploit.
But I just met his stare, calm and unwavering.
My world had already fallen apart once. Nothing could scare me anymore.
Just as the tension was about to snap, Brian's phone rang.
It was his mother.
He headed to the far end of the hallway to answer the call, trying to keep his voice down, but I could still hear him arguing and snapping, barely holding back his rage.
A few minutes later, he came back.
He looked like all the fight had been drained out of him, collapsing into the chair like a puppet with its strings cut.
He picked up the pen, his hand trembling, and signed his name at the bottom of the divorce papers.
The pen scratched across the paper, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
It felt like the gravestone marking the end of our three-year marriage.
After signing, he looked up, his eyes bloodshot, exhaustion etched across his face.
"Claire, you'll regret this," Brian said.
I picked up my copy of the divorce papers and walked out without even looking back at him.
Regret?
I only regretted ever marrying you.
As I walked out of the hospital room, Michael stayed right by my side.
The bright lights hit him, and it struck me that he had those faint dark circles under his eyes too.
"Thanks, Mike," I said softly.
He ruffled my hair, just like he did when we were little.
"Silly girl, no need to say that to me," Michael said.
He paused, then added, "I already found you a place. Once Anna's discharged, you two can move right in. It's close to the hospital and super quiet."
I was on the verge of tears.
No matter how messed up my life got, there was always someone making sure everything was taken care of for me.
My phone buzzed—a deposit notification from the bank.
The amount was astronomical.
This was mine by right, and it was the fuel to kickstart my new life.
Soon after, Michael sent me a text. Just two words. [Welcome back.]
I stood at the hospital entrance, watching the bustling city traffic, and drew in a deep breath of crisp, cold air.
It was almost dawn.
Welcome back, Claire.