Chapter 8 - THE DIVORCE PAPERWORK CALEB DIDN'T EXPECT
Caleb Hayes had negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts without blinking.
He knew how to persuade reluctant investors.
How to identify weaknesses in a competitor's strategy.
How to make people believe an unfavorable agreement was in their best interests.
But when Claire Whitman sent him the proposed divorce terms, he stared at the documents for nearly ten minutes.
Natalie wanted a divorce.
Not a separation.
Not counseling.
Not a temporary arrangement while she recovered.
A divorce.
He called her.
She didn't answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then he sent a message.
Eleven years deserve an actual conversation.
Her reply came an hour later.
They did. I tried to have one before you left for Miami.
Caleb looked at the words.
For the first time, he couldn't think of a response.
The financial review was becoming uncomfortable.
Some of the disputed consulting payments appeared related to company funds rather than household assets.
A separate business review was initiated.
Caleb's accountants disputed the suggestion that transactions were improper, but they agreed further records were necessary.
Natalie refused to speculate about conclusions she couldn't establish.
Her priority was protecting her medical coverage, securing an equitable financial resolution, and making sure she wasn't unknowingly assuming liabilities created by Caleb's business activities.
At a settlement meeting, Caleb attempted to speak to Natalie directly.
“Natalie, I made a mistake.”
She looked at him.
“A mistake?”
He sighed.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know you left me during chemotherapy to spend a week with another woman.”
His face reddened.
“I came back early.”
“Because you thought I was with Ethan.”
Caleb looked away.
Natalie continued.
“You didn't return because you were worried about my treatment. You returned because you were worried another man might treat me better.”
Silence.
Claire glanced toward Caleb's attorney.
Natalie folded her hands.
“I don't need to keep debating what happened. I need a fair legal agreement so I can concentrate on my health.”
For once, Caleb didn't argue.
After the meeting, he followed Natalie into the corridor.
“Natalie.”
She stopped.
He looked exhausted.
“I loved you.”
The past tense struck her.
She looked at him.
“I know you did.”
He swallowed.
“I still do.”
Natalie felt a familiar ache.
There had been beautiful years.
Real years.
Sundays spent making breakfast.
Long drives with music turned too loud.
The little house they rented before Caleb's company became successful.
A decade of inside jokes.
She wasn't going to pretend those memories were false.
But neither could she pretend what happened in February was a harmless interruption.
“I believe you loved parts of our marriage,” she said quietly.
Caleb flinched.
“But when loving me required something difficult, you left.”
He lowered his head.
“Natalie—”
She shook hers.
“I hope you become a better man. I really do.”
He looked up with sudden hope.
Then she finished.
“But I don't want to be married to you while you learn how.”
She walked away.
That evening, Caleb returned to the penthouse.
The wedding photograph still stood in the foyer.
He picked it up.
Natalie smiled beneath a veil, sunlight brightening her hair.
He remembered the vows.
In sickness and in health.
He'd spoken them confidently.
He'd meant them.
At least, he'd believed he did.
But eleven years later, when sickness actually arrived, he discovered that meaning words on a beautiful day wasn't the same as living them on a terrible one.
He sat on the foyer floor with the photograph in his hands.
And cried.
May you like
Not because Natalie had been cruel.
Because she had finally stopped making his choices easy to survive.
