Chapter 4

Sure enough, Charles went out early the next morning.

This time, he actually went to the gallery first. Once there, he sent me photos of paintings and other artwork.

Each one came with a few words and ended with a question.

"This one could go in the bedroom. The one in there is getting old anyway."

"What do you think of this vase for the flowers from the garden?"

Charles sent one message after another.

He hadn't done this in a long time. He used to answer every message I sent, even in the middle of family meetings.

Sometimes he'd even complain about a long-winded board member.

But since Susie returned, our chat had gone quiet. If we needed to discuss something, we called instead.

A few brief, businesslike sentences, and then he'd hang up.

I didn't care why Charles had suddenly started sharing things with me again.

I ignored his messages and checked on the sale of my remaining shares and properties.

Only when I saw that all the money had arrived did I relax.

I'd just finished checking when Charles's name lit up my screen.

As soon as I picked up, he asked, "I just heard all your shares and shops were sold off. What's going on?"

He'd found out what I was doing after all.

"Nothing. I just thought cash would be safer. Didn't you say yesterday that things in the family are unstable?"

My voice was steady, and I didn't let anything slip.

Most of Charles's assets had been transferred to my name. Because we were married, he trusted me with them. Besides, he believed I'd never leave him.

Charles seemed to relax. Guilt crept into his voice. "You're always so thoughtful."

He paused, then added, "Oh, right. I have something to take care of tonight, so I won't be home. When I get back tomorrow, I'll take you to our old box at the racing club. We'll stay all day.

"I'll come pick you up tomorrow. Wait for me."

I'd heard promises like that for seven years. Somewhere along the way, hope had turned to indifference.

"Mm, okay," I said.

Whether he came or not no longer mattered. Tomorrow, I'd be gone.

As he'd said, Charles didn't come home that night. Instead, he kept texting me.

He shared everything from the morning paper to minor matters at the family office, even the accounts from his territories, as if they were amusing stories.

I didn't reply. As I was idly scrolling, another post from Susie popped up. It was a photo of Charles.

He was sitting in a chair, holding his phone and typing a message.

The light from the screen lit up his face.

The caption read, "He upset me, and now all he does is stare at his phone. Somebody's really mastered the silent treatment."

I let out a quiet scoff.

Suddenly, all those messages made sense. He'd only sent them because he was fighting with Susie.

And even after they fought, they still stayed in the same room.

Once, Charles and I had argued over something small. He'd slammed the door and left me alone all night.

He'd said, "I don't like it when people throw tantrums. And after a fight, I need some quiet to process it on my own."

I respected his need for space, but with Susie, it was a completely different story.

Late that night, he sent two last messages.

"Good night. Get some rest."

"I'll be back tomorrow. Wait for me."

Before I turned off my phone, my divorce lawyer asked where to send the finalized decree.

I sent him the estate's address and the address of my new home in London.

Once that was done, I went to sleep peacefully.

I slept until noon. Charles hadn't come back as promised. Just as I picked up my suitcase, a delivery arrived.

It was the finalized divorce decree.

I left it on the table in the front hall, where he couldn't miss it.

That would be my last gift to Charles.

I got into the car with my suitcase. As we pulled out of the estate, I saw Charles driving in.

He glanced at me, surprise flashing across his face, then stopped his car.