Chapter 1

The day of the class reunion, I drove my husband Garry Dickerson and his junior colleague Barbara Fox.

In the back seat, the two of them talked risk management the whole way.

It went on right up until we reached the private room, where Garry stood and introduced Barbara to everyone.

"This is my company's risk manager. Anything about finance, feel free to ask her."

I tugged at Garry's hand and said quietly,

"Let's eat first. You can talk business later."

He turned a dark face on me, displeased.

"What do you know? This project is very important. It can't wait!"

Ignoring the eyes around us, he had Barbara sit down beside him.

She took the cue and set her bag on the chair next to his.

That chair was supposed to be mine.

I watched her bag settle neatly on the seat, paused for two seconds, then asked, "Where do I sit?"

Barbara's eyes reddened, and she stood as if to leave.

Garry grabbed her hand, not even lifting his head.

"I'm covering her share!"

"And you, if you've got time to interrogate people, you might as well go find a waiter and have another chair brought over."

Beside me, Seth Woodward glanced my way.

"Ursula Perry, you should learn some real skills too. Don't just spend all day chasing sales."

Garry raised his head, his lips moving, about to speak.

Barbara slid a file in front of him, pointed at the figures on it, and said softly, "Garry, look here. If we adjust the risk coefficient."

Watching how in sync the two of them were, I suddenly curved my lips into a smile.

This marriage had reached its end.

……

I'd just gotten home when I saw Garry lying on the couch, smoking.

I didn't say anything and headed for the bedroom. He got up and blocked my way.

"Ursula, what was that today?"

I ignored him. My mind was already made up, and nothing more said would change a thing.

But he seized my wrist and squeezed until it hurt.

"I'm talking to you! What are you playing deaf for?"

"Just because you pulled a face, now everyone at the company is saying Barbara's a mistress breaking up somebody's marriage."

I was about to say we might as well divorce.

His phone rang.

I glanced over. The caller ID read Barbara.

It was Barbara.

He tapped answer, and a rushed voice came through the speaker.

"Garry, can you come over now? I've got a better idea."

"Sure, I'll be right there."

He hung up in a flash, didn't spare me a glance, and hurried toward the door. Then he paused, looked back, and said, "Get some sleep early. I probably won't be home tonight."

The moment he shut the door, our wedding photo dropped off the wall.

The glass shattered across the floor, just like my heart right then, no amount of mending would ever bring it back to what it was.

I looked down at the wrist Garry had squeezed red, took a deep breath, and threw the wedding photo into the trash along with the broken glass.

Back in the bedroom, I packed my things, and the moment I finished, I felt a lightness I'd never known and the joy of leaving so close at hand.

I'd just dragged my suitcase to the entryway when his call came in.

Holding on to one last shred of hope, I answered.

His commanding tone came through from the other end.

"Make some hangover soup at home and bring it over. Barbara had a bit to drink tonight, and her head's killing her now."

"Don't sulk. Once I wrap up this project, I'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to try, I promise."

"Bring it within twenty minutes. And no ginger slices, Barbara's allergic to ginger."

He hung up before I could answer.

My last shred of hope died. I set the divorce papers on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, turned, and walked out the door.

I got a room at a hotel near the company. Right before I fell asleep,

Garry bombarded me with calls, plus dozens of messages.

I read a few. Nothing but nagging and blame heaped on me.

I looked at the chat box, didn't hesitate, and calmly typed out a few words.

"Garry, let's get divorced."

Once it sent, I blocked every way he had of reaching me.