“But evening the scales mattered more.”
Her words are like acid pumping in my veins. “I tried to talk to my brothers and stop it, but it was too late. They had already sent in their votes.”
“Okay.”
Her response is entirely too calm. But the suffering I’ve seen is still twirling underneath the surface. I don’t know how to begin to console her when she’s so remote.
I want to ask if there’s a way I can make it up to her. Or if that “okay” was the okay women use when they really want to say, “Go fuck yourself.” But I can’t. I’m terrified she’s going to cut me out of her life.
“I’d like you to leave now,” she says.
“What?”
“This is my home. I don’t want you here.” Her tone says,You understand that, don’t you?
“But we’re married,” I say, desperation surging. “You said you wanted us to look like a real couple. How will it look if I leave?”
“Like we aren’t doing well. But I don’t think we can continue to pretend after what happened today.”
Grief and shattered dreams lurk in her eyes. The glowing confidence and swagger that shielded her lie at her feet in pieces. All her affection for me has turned to ashes, lodged in my throat and choking me.
She isn’t crying because she’s too much in pain. She isn’t crying because she believes she’s truly alone.
“Can I have the ring back?” She tilts her chin at my left hand.
Instinctively, I pull my arm back. It feels too final to give up our wedding band.
Her expression grows even more distant. “Fine. Whatever. Keep it. I don’t know why I’m acting like it ever meant anything.”
“We both need some time to recover, Luce.”
“No, Sebastian. I just need you gone.”
* * *
I couldn’t even argue my case to her. Nothing I said would penetrate. I’ve squandered all my credit. I’m a deadbeat, unwanted garbage in her world.
Although her resolute expression makes it clear she wants me to move out permanently, I don’t take my things. If I leave my stuff, I can drop by later to get it. I can figure out some way to make it up to her.
I go to the Aylster Residence. It’s always been a hotel, but it couldn’t have felt more transient. It’s nicely appointed, but sterile.
It has everything but Luce.
My phone pings. I whip it out, praying it’s my wife—
–Nicholas: I heard about what happened. Are you okay?
I close my eyes for a moment. Of course it isn’t Luce.
–Me: She knows everything.
–Emmett: Define “everything.”
–Me: She knows I wanted to take the company from her, and I asked you to vote against her.
–Grant: Ouch. But didn’t you vote in support of her?
–Me: Of course.
