Chapter 1
Series 1 Chapter 1
On our eighth wedding anniversary, my husband entertained forty-seven guests by imitating the night I begged him to save our marriage.
“Eight years, Ethan,” he said in a trembling voice. “You should at least give me a reason to stay.”
Laughter spilled into the hallway.
I stopped outside the ballroom.
Three minutes earlier, a nurse had called to say my patient was stable. I thought I’d only missed the opening remarks. Instead, I arrived in time to hear my husband turn the worst night of my life into party entertainment.
Three months ago, I’d handed Ethan divorce papers after he skipped our daughter Lucy’s performance to comfort Sloane, then lied about a business trip.
I’d cried so hard I could barely speak. He’d held me and promised there would be no more lies.
Now he was imitating my pauses.
“She really wanted a divorce?” someone asked.
“That’s what she said.” Ethan laughed. “She went to work the next morning and came home that night like always.”
Sloane spoke next. “What happened to the papers?”
“They’re in my office.”
“Did you bring them?”
After a pause, I heard pages turning.
My stomach tightened. He had brought them to our anniversary party.
“Then sign them,” Sloane said. “Unless you’re afraid Claire might actually file.”
People began cheering him on.
Ethan didn’t stop them. He only asked, “Anyone have a pen?”
By the time I reached the doorway, he was signing his name. The room erupted in applause.
His brother Ryan stared at him. “Are you insane? What if Claire files them?”
“She won’t.”
“You’re that sure?”
“Claire can’t walk away from responsibility. She’ll be angry tonight, but she’ll still host the foundation brunch tomorrow. She’d never let fifty donors see our family falling apart.”
Sloane laughed. “And if she really leaves this time?”
“She always comes back.”
I stepped into the ballroom.
Ryan saw me first. His smile vanished. One by one, the others turned.
Ethan straightened. “Claire. How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
He glanced at the people behind him. “It was a joke.”
“I heard.”
Sloane rushed in. “Everyone’s been drinking. I was only testing whether Ethan had the nerve. Nobody wants you two to actually—”
“You don’t need to explain for him.”
I took out my phone.
Ethan approached me. “Claire, don’t make a scene. We’ll talk at home.”
He reached for my screen. I stepped back and called Naomi Price, the attorney I’d consulted three months earlier.
It was 9:17 p.m. She might not answer.
On the fourth ring, she did. “Claire?”
“Sorry it’s late. Ethan signed the divorce papers.”
His face changed. At last, he stopped smiling.
“Are you sure you want to proceed?” Naomi asked.
She’d asked me that before. That night, Ethan had said Lucy needed an intact family and Sloane had just lost her marriage. He couldn’t abandon an old friend.
I’d believed him because I wanted to.
Tonight, he had treated my forgiveness as proof that I could never leave.
“I’m sure. File them when your office opens.”
Ethan snatched the phone and ended the call.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Making your signature count.”
“I was handling the crowd. Sloane kept pushing, everyone was watching—what was I supposed to do?”
“Not sign.”
“It’s just paper.”
“Tomorrow it won’t be.”
He lowered his voice. “What about the brunch? My mother, the board, the donors—they expect us to host together.”
Even now, his first concern was who would stand beside him tomorrow.
“Tell them the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That you signed divorce papers in front of everyone because you were certain your wife would never use them.”
I took back my phone and left.
Outside the hotel, his messages arrived one after another.
Come back.
Don’t destroy eight years over a joke.
The last one came two minutes later.
Don’t make tonight real.
I replied.
You signed it.