She pats my arm gently, that sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s get you back to work. I’ve heard your phone buzzing on the table since we sat down.”
Somehow,I’ve managed to clear my schedule for Wednesday afternoon. Just as I’m about to dial Juliette’s number, my phone rings in my hand. Without even thinking, I swipe to answer.
“Finn, hey. What’s going on?”
“No good afternoon? How are you?”
“Finn,” I repeat, not in the mood for his bullshit.
I can practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end. “Killjoy. I have an idea, but I’ve got some questions for you first.”
“Anything. Ask away.”
“How often were you travelling in the year before you separated?” There’s a hint of suspicion in his voice, like he’s trying to piece something together.
“A lot,” I admit. “We were in the thick of expanding the distillery. New partnerships, suppliers, distributors, the whole deal.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “And where was Hallie when you were gone?”
I can feel a frown forming. Where’s he going with this? “She was home, as far as I’m aware.” My voice is steady, but the question starts to nag at me.
“Mmhm. And explain to me why you started this whole process.”
I take a breath, feeling that old frustration rising again. “She started acting like a different person. One second, she was loving and supportive, and the next, she was cold and cruel. Accused me of cheating while I was working my arse off. Then she started demanding huge amounts of money for reasons I couldn’t make sense of and would fly off the handle if I said no.”
“Aye,” he starts. “So here’s the thing. We’ve had access to her financial records leading up to the application, but we were mainly focused on her financial position, not the details of her expenditures.”
Another pause, then he goes on. “Would you be able to send me the dates of all your work trips? The lengths of them, and where you stayed during that year before you submitted the divorce paperwork?”
My stomach drops. Something’s not sitting right, but I don’t have a choice but to go along with it. I click through my folders and emails to see what I kept track of. “Aye, I’m sure I could. Looks like it’s all here in some form or another.”
“As we both know, the judge decided your marriage hadn’t broken down after the initial application,” Finn points out, as if I need the reminder. “But if I can prove adultery, it’s a shoo-in.”
I lean back in my chair, my brows pulling together. “What are you talking about?”
Initially, I had to prove that the marriage hadirretrievably broken down. But there are specific grounds for it, and since we weren’t separated long enough for desertion or any other claim to hold water, the judge rejected the initial step in the process. Now, Finn’s talking about adultery as if it’s the magic fix.
“Knox…” He hesitates for a second, trying to find the right words. “I’m almost certain Hallie was cheating on you the entire time you were married.”
A wave of emotion crashes over me. Disbelief, confusion, anger, betrayal. My mind races in a dozen different directions, trying to make sense of this new revelation. “How do you know?”
“If my suspicions are correct,” he starts, his voice measured, “Hallie was never home while you were away. She was in St. Andrews, and there are numerous transactions at a hotel there. It won’t be difficult to obtain concrete proof, not if you’re willing to pay for it.”
My words come out harsher than I mean for them to, but I can’t hold it in. I’m fuming. “How did we miss this, Finn? If that’s true, this could’ve been over years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Knox. We just weren’t considering this avenue, so we weren’t looking. She was paintingyouas the cheater, and she was the forgiving wife who wanted to give you a second chance.”
The realization of how much we missed and how much I’ve been blind to hits hard. My fingers clench, resentment burning inside me, but beneath that, a dull ache stirs. I put everything into making the relationship work, choosing to ignore the red flags because I thought it was my fault.
It’s a pattern I’ve known my whole life. Always stepping into lift the burden, playing by certain rules because that’s what’s expected, being the one to set things straight. It took me too long to realize that some things aren’t mine to save.
“What’s done is done. I just need it taken care of,” I say, my tone firm and final. There’s no room for debate here. “Do whatever you need to on your end. I’ll get you my travel details.”
Finn responds with calm assurance, already having mapped out the next steps. “We might not even have to do much. Get me the particulars, and I’ll get something set up with them. There’s a chance they don’t want this going back to the judge.”
“I’ll get those over to you before I head home for the day,” I promise. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I end the call, and I’m…furious. Enraged. Livid. Fuming.Seething. There aren’t enough words to describe the storm brewing inside me.
