Chapter 5

The night Andrew brought up divorce, we were at the dinner table. Lily had already finished eating and was in the living room watching cartoons. He put down his chopsticks, looked at me, and said, "Claire, I've thought about this for a long time. We should get divorced."

My hand paused for one second over the dish, then I kept eating. "Okay."

He clearly hadn't expected me to answer that fast. "You don't want to ask why?"

"No need. I already know."

"Know what?"

"You think we don't have anything in common. You think I don't fit your life anymore. You think you need a partner who can talk industry trends with you over dinner, not a stay-at-home mom whose big update is 'Lily learned a new nursery rhyme today.'" I dabbed my lips with a napkin. "Am I wrong?"

Andrew fell silent for a few seconds. "You're taking it too far."

"I'm only repeating what you've been saying to me for the past year."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I stood up and started clearing the dishes. "Just let me know how you want to handle the divorce paperwork. As for the property, I don't want any of it."

"Any of it?"

"Yeah. Clean break."

He frowned. "Claire, are you just angry right now?"

"No." I set the bowl in the sink and turned on the faucet. "I just don't want any ties left later. You paid the down payment on the condo, and the car is in your name. I don't want that kind of advantage."

"Then where are you and Lily going to live? How are you going to support her?" He asked it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. In his eyes, a woman with no income who refused his handout had only one option left: starve.

I turned off the faucet and faced him. "That's not something you need to worry about."

"I'm not worried. I'm afraid you'll—"

"Afraid of what? Afraid I'll be a mess and drag you down?" I smiled a little. "Relax. Once I sign the papers, go live your elite life. I won't cling to you, and I won't come crawling back."

That night, I packed up the last box of my personal belongings. Andrew sat in the living room watching TV and never came to help. He probably thought I was just packing up some old clothes and daily stuff. He had no idea my old suitcase held the trophies I'd won at the TV station.

Sunspire Media. Founder and Chief Content Officer: Claire Bennett. That was my other identity—the one he'd never known existed.

On the third day after the divorce, I went to the office like always. Sunspire rented a loft in a creative park on the east side of town. When I pushed the door open, Maya was already at her desk.

"Claire, Mr. Reed's assistant called," Maya said. "Mr. Reed wants another meeting this week and plans to bring people from the Investment Committee."

"Set it for Thursday."

"You got it. Also..." Maya leaned in and lowered her voice. "About that condo, he really didn't ask why you refused it?"

"No."

"God, that's dumb." Maya shook her head. "If it were my ex, he'd definitely be suspicious. Who turns down a place that big for free? No normal person would believe that."

"He doesn't think it's strange." I opened my laptop and logged into the backend. "He just thinks I'm either acting out or stupid."

"The stupid one is him."

"Enough. Give me today's schedule."

At ten o'clock, we had the topic meeting. Six writers sat around the conference table while I flipped through the proposals everyone had turned in.

"Jenny, don't bring me this 'Billionaire Boyfriend' series again."

Jenny scratched her head. "But that lane performs well..."

"It performs well because too many people are making it, and too many people are making it because it doesn't require a brain. We don't make content that doesn't require a brain."

"Then I'll think of something else..."

"No need to start from scratch. What are you actually good at?"

"I... used to interview women working in factories."

"Then do that. 'Women on the Line.' A five-episode documentary-style short drama. Go find real cases."

Jenny's eyes lit up. "Ms. Bennett, really?"

"Really. Keep the budget under 30,000 dollars and bring me the proposal in two weeks."

After the meeting, Monica came over from the office next door. "I called Horizon too," she said. "Michael is really interested in our completion-rate data, but he has doubts about the profit model. He thinks we rely too much on brand partnerships."

"That's why I'm planning to focus on our paid-content strategy at the committee meeting."

"Paid short dramas?"

"Yeah. Our audience is sticky enough. We can test the waters. Start with one series and see how it goes."

Monica thought it over, then nodded. "All right. You set the direction, and I'll talk to the distribution side about a partnership."

"There's one more thing." I looked at her. "I want to make a real interview show."

"About what?"

"The kind of work no one sees. Stay-at-home moms, family caregivers, women doing frontline labor. Nobody talks about this group, but it's huge."

Monica was quiet for two seconds. "This has something to do with your own experience, doesn't it?"

"It does. But it isn't only for me."

"Budget?"

"We'll start with a pilot and keep it under 50,000 dollars."

"Works for me."

I looked out the window. Sunlight washed the whole creative park in gold, and laughter drifted up from the street below. Three years ago, I used to look out from Central One Residence and see the skyline. Now I looked down at the road beneath me. Both views were good. The difference was that everything in this little office had been earned by me.