Chapter 3
A week later, at a downtown law firm.
My lawyer slid the divorce agreement toward the center of the table, reminding me in a low voice that I had every right to fight for several of the clauses.
"There's no need," I said, my tone completely flat as I stared at the dense text. "I just want this over with as fast as possible."
Adrian was ten minutes late.
"We better make this quick." He issued the order to the lawyer the second he sat down, without so much as a glance in my direction.
"I have physical therapy this afternoon. I'm on a tight schedule."
When my lawyer brought up the division of the marital home and joint assets, Adrian frowned in irritation.
"Nora, you always prided yourself on not caring about these things." He tapped his fingers against the table.
"You've lived a very comfortable life these past few years. Let's not make this ugly at the finish line."
He erased a decade of my sacrifices effortlessly. He genuinely believed he was the magnanimous provider, and I was just a parasite feeding off his success.
"Adrian, every failure, every emotional breakdown you had over the last ten years—I was the one cleaning up the mess." My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room.
"I don't expect your gratitude. Just don't talk about me like some spoiled dependent."
His eyes turned hard and cold, clearly stung. "If being married to me was such a burden, Nora, then walking away now should be a relief."
That sentence severed whatever final, lingering thread of hesitation I had left.
His phone lit up several times—all texts from Celeste.
The lawyer pushed the final pages toward him for signatures.
Without a second of hesitation, Adrian signed his name.
"By the way, Nora, where did you pack my navy silk tie? Celeste said the restaurant we booked tonight has a dress code."
I was ending my ten-year marriage, and he was asking me to facilitate his date with another woman.
I didn't answer him. I simply signed my name, set the pen down, pushed my chair back, and stood up.
"I hope you don't keep yourself trapped in the past," he offered as a parting remark, utterly convinced of his own grace.
Adrian had his driver take him back to the house. He needed that navy tie.
Celeste was standing by the entryway console, holding an unopened hospital envelope.
"Are these the medical bills from your accident?" she asked.
Adrian thought nothing of it. He took the envelope, tore it open, and pulled out the paperwork.
The name at the top wasn't his.
It was Nora's.
He frowned.
The date was the exact day he had woken up from his surgery.
His eyes tracked further down the page.
And then, his thumb froze.
"What is it?" Celeste stepped closer.
Adrian didn't answer.
He stared at the bolded title at the top of the page, his throat suddenly blocked.
Pregnancy Loss Discharge Instructions.