Chapter 5: Don't forget that, Rita

The words hit Rita like a physical blow.

“I want a divorce.”

She stood frozen in the middle of their bedroom, the late afternoon light slanting across the polished floor. She told herself she had misheard him. She needed him to say it again so the sound would stop echoing inside her skull.

Philip did not keep her waiting.

“I don’t want this marriage anymore, Rita.”

Her voice cracked when she answered. “Why?”

He looked past her, toward the window, as if the view of the city skyline mattered more than the woman standing three feet away. “You’re making everyone uncomfortable. You’re making Blair uncomfortable.”

Rita’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You’re divorcing me because of Blair?”

One day. Blair had walked into their house one hour ago, and already the ground under Rita’s feet had shifted. She had always known Philip did not love her. She had signed the papers with open eyes. But this—this was something colder.

Philip noticed the tears gathering in her eyes. His tone softened into something almost clinical. “Don’t think too much about it. I’ll see to it that you’re compensated greatly for your time with me.” He reached for the doorknob.

“Compensated greatly?” Rita let out a short, broken laugh. The sound made him pause.

His jaw tightened.

“Money,” she said, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “That’s all you understand. Assets. The gold that comes with your name. Is that all you have to offer?”

Philip turned fully toward her. His voice stayed low, almost careful. “You don’t have to act that way, Rita. You knew I was a man of great resources. You knew the power and influence that came with my name. You knew the sacrifices that come with being me. Yet you married me.”

His gaze moved over her face, searching, confused.

Rita pressed her lips together hard. The tears kept coming anyway.

“You married me for my money,” he continued. “You were desperate for it. You needed it. You enjoyed the wealth and the affluence.” His jaw worked once. “I gave you everything you asked for in our agreement. Yet you stand in front of me and act like that isn’t enough. How greedy can you be?”

Greedy?

Was that how he had seen her all these years, despite everything she had given?

She had married him in haste because her grandmother’s debt had left her with no other choice. A dangerous loan shark had threatened to take her as payment. Philip’s offer had felt like the only escape. And she had already loved him long before the contract—since the days she first walked into the Armstrong mansion as the old maid’s granddaughter.

The words she wanted to throw back stayed locked behind her teeth.

Yes, you gave me everything I asked for in the contract. But you never gave me the one thing I have always wanted.

Philip slipped one hand into his pocket, the same way he did when he discussed numbers with his lawyers. “Tell me what else you need. I’ll add it to the divorce agreement.”

Rita said nothing. She only looked at him.

“Cars. Mansions. Funds. Estates. Name it.” He waited. “I’m generous enough.”

Still she stayed silent. She knew the truth already. In Philip Armstrong’s eyes she would always be the woman who had come for the money and nothing more. He would never hand her the one thing she actually wanted.

He made a small sound of impatience. “Seems you’re not ready to talk. You can let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

The question left her mouth before she could stop it.

“Are you in love with her?”

Philip’s face pulled into a frown. “Who?”

That single word landed harder than the rest. Rita wondered, for one sick moment, if there might be another woman she didn’t even know about.

She swallowed. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, Rita. You know I’m a busy man. Say what you mean.”

She forced the name out. “Are you in love with Blair?”

His expression shifted—shock, then confusion, then nothing at all. “I think you need to rest. You’re thinking too much.”

“No.” She took one step forward, closing the last bit of space between them. “Don’t tell me that. I’m your wife. I deserve to know. Tell me the truth.”

Philip looked away for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was flat. “What do you care? It’s not supposed to be your business if I’m in love with my late brother’s widow or not.”

Rita’s shoulders dropped. Something inside her chest folded in on itself.

“Our marriage is only a contract,” he said, as if reminding a child of the rules. “Don’t forget that, Rita.”

He turned, opened the door, and walked out.

Rita watched him go. The quiet that followed felt heavier than the argument. She shut the door with a soft click and then her legs simply gave out. She sank to her knees on the expensive rug, the tears she had been holding finally breaking free in hard, ugly sobs.

All she had ever needed was his love. Not the money. Not the power that came with his name. Just a place in his heart.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slightly, trying to create some small warmth where his should have been. The room stayed empty. The city kept moving outside the tall windows. And Rita cried alone until her throat hurt and her eyes burned and there was nothing left to give.