Richard leads me to his study. I never spent much time here among the dark wood paneling andfloor-to-ceiling bookshelves because he locked it when he was away. He sits down at the massive desk and steeples his fingers, watching me with that same superior smile as I wedge myself into the chair across from him.
“Well?” He motions expectantly at my folder. “Go ahead.”
“Before I give you the proposal, I want you to know that I have a lawyer involved. He has copies of everything and is aware of what you’ve done.”
His eyebrows rise slightly. “And what, exactly, have I done?”
“You’ve been going after my friends. My workplace. I know about how you stopped Nicole’s lease renewal, the bogus complaints to the school board about Heidi, the fake reviews for Dog-Eared Pages.” I tick them off on my fingers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more we don’t know about yet. But all that stops now.”
For a moment, surprise flickers in his eyes. Surprise that I figured it out, maybe, or surprise that I’m confronting him about it. Then he laughs.
“Or what, Julia?” He spreads his hands. “What are you going to do about it? You have no home. No money. No skills. You’ve been living oncharityand working in abookshop.” He says the words like they’re obscenities. “You have no strings to pull. I genuinely thought you were going to come in hereand beg for mercy, and honestly, I was ready to give you some. I only wanted to humble you a little first.”
“Well, I’m not here to beg. I’m here to propose divorce terms that are fair to both of us.” I set the folder on his desk, flipping it open to the first page. “You keep the vacation properties and the majority of the investment accounts. Your business, obviously. I’d like funds set aside in trust for the girls’ education. I’m asking for this house and a modest settlement that reflects my contributions to our marriage.”
“What contributions?” he scoffs.
I struggle to keep my face and voice neutral, when inside I’m swarmed with hurt and fury. “Managing the household, cleaning the house, raising our daughters, supporting your career, et cetera. It’s reasonable.”
I push the proposal across the desk, but Richard doesn’t look at it. He’s looking at me, eyes narrowed like he’s seeing me for the first time.
He barks a laugh. “You’re even stupider than I thought if you believe I’ll give you a dime. The prenup is ironclad, Julia. Our marriage ends, you getnothing. I brought all the assets to this relationship. I’ve earned all the assets since we’ve been married. You are worthless, and the divorce decree will reflect that.”
The words are designed to wound. But this time, I don’t let them under my skin. I don’t let thembecome part of me. Richard waits, expecting me to crumble and cry. When I don’t, his smile falters.
“Say something,” he orders.
“All right. If you don’t agree to my terms, which are very favorable to you, by the way, I will be going to the police with evidence of your criminal activities.”
I push the rest of the folder’s contents across the desk, too. Now he’s paying attention. He flips the folder around and starts going through them, turning the pages slowly.
“Bribery. Embezzling. Tax evasion. It’s all in there. So are the numerous affairs.” I look up and meet his wide, stunned eyes. “I’m positive your parents don’t know about any of it. Will they write you out of the will when they find out what you’ve been up to?”
The change in Richard is instantaneous.
The smug superiority drains from his face, replaced by something dark and dangerous. His jaw tightens, and when he stands, his chair scrapes back against the hardwood floor with a screech that makes my heart stutter.
“You don’t want to go there, Julia.” His voice is controlled, but I can hear the threat underneath it. “You don’t want to mess with my family.”
I stand up, too. “You’ve been messing withmine.”
He moves faster than I expect, stepping around the desk to grab my wrists. His grip is bruising, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“Let go of me!” I try and jerk my arms away, but he just holds me tighter, pain lancing up both forearms.
“You think you can walk intomy houseandthreatenme? After everything I’ve done for you?” he shouts, red-faced, all pretense of calm gone. Veins throb at his temple, and his pupils are eerily huge and dark. “You are nothing. Nobody. No one would even miss you if you were gone.”
He shoves me backwards against the bookcase. Pain blooms across my hip where it hits the wood. It hurts enough to make my eyes prickle with hot tears, blurring my vision.
“Stop, Richard. You’re hurting me!”
He laughs, the sound chilling. “Good. Maybe you’ll finally learn something.”
“What am I supposed to learn from this?” I whimper, still trying to tug my wrists out of his grip. But he’s not budging. If anything, my struggle ispleasinghim. He likes that I’m helpless. He likes that I’m hurting. “I don’t know what you want from me!”
He pins my wrists to the shelf behind me and puts his face close to mine, too close to focus. The hair rises on the back of my neck. “I want yourgratitude. I want yourapology.I want yourobedience.”
Panic surges through me. Richard seems capable of anything right now, and I can’t reach my emergency button. For one horrible moment, I think about apologizing to try and smooth things over.
