All Chapters of The Divorce That Ruined Him: Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

Serena Victor had been a little off. The Victor I had known this short period was the giddy type. He had good days and bad days, and the good days were so good that they made the bad days harder to absorb. And I'm sure this is one of the odd ones. On the good day, he was sharp and demanding and entirely himself. On the bad day, he got very tired. His hands shook slightly when he reached for thing, and there was a quality to his stillness that was different from rest. ************** It was a hot afternoon when he asked about the son. Not for the first time. He had mentioned Elliot before. But he had never gone deeper into it. He seemed to talk less about him, and I wasn't going to push it. We were seated by the window. Not close enough, but okay for a conversation. "My son called," Victor voiced out of the blue. I looked up a bit taken aback. That was a first. "Elliot." He was looking out the window. "Last week, my solicitor told him about the amendments. He wasn't

SerenaPain shot through my abdomen down to my legs. My lower body felt so horrible. My feet were pricking, and I couldn't resist the agonizing pain. It was at two in the morning, and it was nothing like I'd prepared for.I had prepared so well for the incoming restlessness and welcome of the baby, but this — was unexpected. Definitely not for a dawn. None of it mattered.What helped my breathing was my eyes on a mark on the wall, hands on the rail until my knuckle bones felt like they might come apart. My body was doing what it had apparently been planning to do regardless of what I thought about it.The midwife who took charge was Carla — a woman in her forties with the particular efficiency of someone who found none of this alarming and that, more than anything, was useful. She had arrived in under ten minutes, set her bag down without ceremony, and immediately taken over without asking if she should. A younger nurse assisted from the other side of the bed, quieter, focused on the

Serena Three days after Victor died, I had the first appointment with the board. I sat at the head of the boardroom. The grief still lived with me, but I know well not to let it eat me over since I have responsibilities to take care of. My son and the company left in my care. I had expected more time. I had been wrong about that — a continuous education in the distance between how I thought things worked and how they did. The meeting was to be held at the conference room, fourteenth floor, financial district. With these few days, I had been offered a parking space, which struck me as both excessive and deliberate. A car too, which I declined. For reasons best known to me. I took the tram and spent fifteen minutes watching the city through the window, thinking about the vault and telling myself I would understand it soon. The men at the table were all polite. That was the first thing I noticed upon entering. The specific quality of politeness that has been briefed.