Chapter 3 - STEVEN CAME TO MY SISTER’S APARTMENT AND LEARNED THERE WERE TWO THINGS I WOULD NOT GIVE HIM
Steven arrived at Julia’s building at 6:20 that evening.
He did not come upstairs.
The doorman called.
“Mrs. Daniels, your husband is in the lobby.”
Julia looked at me.
Bethany had already filed the petition electronically.
Steven had not been served yet.
I could refuse to see him.
Part of me wanted to.
Another part needed to know whether he would lie when there was nowhere left to hide.
“I’ll go down.”
Julia stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Angela.”
“Stay near your phone.”
I wore jeans.
Sweater.
No makeup.
The ivory box remained upstairs.
I did not want it anywhere near the conversation.
Steven stood beside the lobby windows.
Dark coat.
No tie.
He looked like he had not slept.
For half a second, my body remembered him before my mind did.
My husband.
The man whose chest I had slept against for five years.
Then he turned.
“Angela.”
I stopped six feet away.
He started toward me.
I lifted one hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
Good.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“Not relevant.”
His jaw tightened.
“Julia’s?”
I said nothing.
He exhaled.
“Fine.”
Then:
“Can we go somewhere private?”
“No.”
He looked around the lobby.
Two residents waited near elevator.
Doorman far away.
“This is private enough.”
Steven rubbed his left eyebrow.
The tell I had described to Sloane.
He was about to lie.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
I almost smiled.
“You opened with that.”
“It’s true.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How far did you go?”
His face changed.
“Angela.”
“Did you kiss her?”
Silence.
There.
“How many times?”
He looked down.
“Three.”
I felt something tear quietly.
“Did you touch her the way I saw?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go to her apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stay overnight?”
“No.”
“Hotel?”
“No.”
“Did she stay with you while you traveled?”
He hesitated.
“Adjoining rooms.”
I laughed.
“Steven.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You mean penetration?”
His face flushed.
“Lower your voice.”
That almost broke me.
Even now.
Image.
“Did you tell her our marriage was effectively over?”
“Yes.”
“Was it?”
He looked at me.
“I thought it was.”
“When did you plan to tell me?”
“After the Mercer financing closed.”
Of course.
A transaction deadline.
“Why after?”
“Because I needed focus.”
I stared.
“You needed me to remain your wife quietly until your investment closed.”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
He ran hand through hair.
“Mercer House is tied to a major strategic deal.”
“Sloane’s brand is being rolled into a luxury hospitality platform.”
“I invested early.”
“If the next round closes, DSV’s stake could be worth four or five times what we put in.”
“We.”
His eyes shifted.
I continued:
“You used our joint investment account.”
“DSV is marital.”
“It was an investment.”
“Did you tell me Sloane owned it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because by then…”
He stopped.
“By then you were interested in her.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt but at least it was clean.
“Did you use Lake Geneva as collateral?”
Steven’s face tightened.
“You signed that facility.”
“I asked if it affected us.”
“It didn’t affect our day-to-day life.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It was business collateral.”
“Against a house I own with you.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want another two million.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You saw the amendment.”
“Yes.”
“You have been going through our finances.”
“Our finances.”
He looked ashamed.
“Right.”
I watched him.
Then:
“I’m not signing it.”
His face changed.
“Angela.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand what that does.”
“I understand exactly what it does.”
“We could lose the allocation.”
“Then lose it.”
His jaw tightened.
“There are contractual obligations.”
“Yours.”
“Ours.”
“No.”
That word landed harder than I expected.
Steven took one step closer.
“Angela, whatever happens between us, DSV is marital property.”
“And if Mercer House succeeds, you benefit.”
I laughed.
“You invested our money in your girlfriend’s company without telling me, and now you’re explaining that cheating might have a good return.”
“She is not my girlfriend.”
“What is she?”
His silence answered.
Potential future.
Maybe.
Steven lowered his voice.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at him.
He was frightened now.
Not only because of money.
Because I was not cooperating with the timeline he had designed.
“I filed for divorce this morning.”
His face went completely still.
“What?”
“You’ll be served.”
“Angela.”
“No.”
“You filed after one night.”
“One night?”
I stared.
“You have been telling another woman our marriage is dead.”
“You invested one and a half million dollars in her company without telling me.”
“You used marital collateral.”
“You kissed her.”
“You planned your exit.”
“And you are surprised I moved faster than you?”
He looked around again.
Public judgment.
Still.
“I can fix the financial part.”
“That sentence is the problem.”
“What?”
“You think this is a financial problem.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“I know it isn’t.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then what did you lose last night?”
He opened mouth.
Closed it.
Finally:
“You.”
My chest hurt.
Not enough.
“Wrong.”
He frowned.
“You lost the version of me who would keep waiting while you decided what I deserved to know.”
Steven looked away.
For the first time, his eyes were wet.
“Come home.”
“No.”
“We can sleep separately.”
“No.”
“Take the whole top floor.”
I almost laughed.
“You still think space is square footage.”
His face broke slightly.
“Angela.”
“I’m done.”
He stood silently.
Then his eyes moved toward my coat.
My hand had drifted unconsciously to my lower stomach.
Not obvious.
Just instinct.
Steven noticed everything when he was finally paying attention.
“What?”
I moved my hand.
“Nothing.”
His expression sharpened.
“Last night you had something in your pocket.”
My pulse increased.
“The box.”
I said nothing.
“What was it?”
“Not yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not discussing it.”
“Angela.”
“No.”
His voice became rough.
“Was it another man?”
The absurdity stunned me.
“What?”
“A gift?”
“A letter?”
“Something you were going to tell me?”
I stared at the husband who had been kissing another woman and was somehow imagining betrayal.
“Go home, Steven.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
“Good.”
Then elevator opened.
Bethany stepped out.
I had texted her when Steven arrived.
Steven recognized her.
His face changed.
“Bethany Ward.”
She nodded.
“Mr. Daniels.”
“You hired a lawyer already.”
I answered:
“Yes.”
Bethany handed him an envelope.
“I’m authorized to provide courtesy copy of petition. Formal service will follow.”
Steven stared at it.
Then at me.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders dropped.
Not dramatic.
Just slightly.
He took papers.
Then said:
“I’ll respect that tonight.”
Tonight.
A temporary word.
I let it go.
He turned toward doors.
Then stopped.
“The collateral amendment.”
I almost laughed again.
“What?”
“We need an answer by Monday.”
“No.”
“Angela.”
“That’s the answer.”
He looked at me.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
He left.
I watched through glass as he crossed toward waiting car.
For a moment he stood in snow with the divorce petition in one hand.
Then got inside.
I returned upstairs.
Julia was waiting.
“So?”
“He knows about divorce.”
“And baby?”
I touched ivory box.
“No.”
Bethany said:
“We need a plan for disclosure.”
“I know.”
“Soon.”
“Yes.”
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored.
A text:
Angela, this is Sloane Mercer. Steven told me you filed. There are things he has not told either of us. If you want the truth about the money, call me before Monday.
Julia read over my shoulder.
“Oh, hell no.”
Bethany held out hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I did.
Because the woman sitting in my anniversary booth had just become something more complicated than my husband’s affair.
May you like
She was now offering information about the same financial deal Steven needed my signature to complete.
And suddenly I wondered whether Steven had been lying to both of us.
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