Yes, I need it.6AM. Zuma.
I glance at the wedding ring on my finger one more time, remembering Lucas’s face when he accused me of choosing my career over him. The pain of his words still stings, but underneath it all is a deeper hurt—that he could believe, even for a moment, that I was using him.
I return to my keyboard, and my fingers fly across the keys with renewed determination. If Lucas can’t see me clearly through his pride and pain, that’s his choice, but I won’t compromise who I am—not for him, not for anyone.
The story will run. The truth will come out.
And whatever happens after that, I’ll face it standing on the foundation of integrity I’ve built my entire career upon.
thirty-eight
. . .
Lucas
I’m still staringat the divorce papers when I realize that I can’t put this off any longer. My attorney’s logo is emblazoned across the top of the documents spread across my coffee table,“Mutual Consent Dissolution of Marriage,” dated and ready for signatures once our six-month arrangement officially ends in two weeks.
The sight of them should provide relief. Instead, they feel like a death sentence.
But right now, I have a more pressing obligation, one I’ve been dreading since Jess and I had our fight a week ago.
I dial my mother’s number, and my stomach churns as it rings.
“Lucas, what a lovely surprise,” she answers, warmth evident in her voice. “I was just thinking about you and Jess.”
“Hi, Mom.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I need to talk to you about something. About Dad.”
The warmth in her voice shifts to caution. “What about your father?”
This is the conversation I never wanted to have, the reason that I was so angry at Jess in the first place: not just for pursuing the story but for forcing me into this moment, for making me be the one to shatter my mother’s carefully maintained world.
“Jess is writing a story. About him.” I push forward, needing to get it out. “Sexual harassment allegations from former staffers.”
Silence stretches between us. I brace for a denial, for the protective instinct I expect from a woman who’s been married to my father for nearly forty years. Instead, she sighs quietly.
“I see. And these allegations, are they substantial?”
Her calm reaction catches me off guard. “Three women, consistent stories, employment records showing patterns of retaliation.” I pause. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Lucas, I’ve been married to your father since I was twenty-three years old. There’s very little about him that surprises me anymore.”
Understanding dawns slowly. “You knew. About the women.”
“I’ve known who I married for a very long time.” Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact. “Your father is brilliant, charismatic, and deeply flawed.”
“And you’ve just accepted it?” I can’t keep the incredulity from my voice.
“No,” she says firmly. “I’ve managed it. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Marriage is complicated, Lucas. Particularly publicmarriages. Your father and I have an understanding. He keeps his transgressions discrete, and I maintain my dignity and focus on the work that matters to me.”
“That sounds like a business arrangement, not a marriage,” I say before I can stop myself.
The irony hits me immediately. Isn’t that exactly what Jess and I have? Or at least, what we started with?
“Tell me about Jess’s story. When does it run?”
