"Because I was afraid," I continue. "That he never really wanted me. That he only married me because I checked the right boxes."
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. "Because I was easy to control."
"Do you believe that?" she asks quietly.
The question hangs there, demanding an honesty I'm not sure I'm ready to give. Because the answer doesn't simplify anything. It just makes the leaving harder to justify.
"No," I admit. "I don't."
She nods, satisfied with something I can't see.
"Steve said the fight was Arthur's worst mistake in a long time," I add, not looking at her.
My sister makes a small sound—not quite dismissal, not quite agreement.
"What does that even mean?" I say, frustration building. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
My sister shrugs. "Whatever you want."
I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. "That's exactly what Steve said."
"Smart man."
I stand, suddenly restless. "This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman with billions of dollars and I'm sitting here dissecting vague statements like they're fortune cookies."
"So stop," my sister replies simply.
I turn to face her. "Stop what?"
"You're waiting for someone to give you permission to feel whatever you're feeling. To make the decision for you." Her voice softens. "Lindsay, you've spent your whole life being careful. Being the responsible one. And where did it get you?"
I swallow hard. "The lottery," I say weakly.
She rolls her eyes. "Luck isn't a character trait. And it isn't a plan."
She stands, facing me.
"You want my opinion? Stop waiting for Arthur to tell you what happens next."
She meets my gaze.
“Decide what you want. Then go get it.”
