I turned to the room, addressing the audience he had assembled.
“That drive contains records of three separate bank accounts in the Cayman Islands,” I declared. “It contains the deed to a townhouse in Burlington, purchased with marital funds. It contains birth certificates listing Richard as the father of Noah and Sophie. It contains thirty years of credit card statements, DNA test results, and audio recordings of Richard telling Marissa that he couldn’t leave me yet because he needed my family’s connections to secure his board seat.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Marissa let out a sharp cry. She stepped away from Richard as if he had burst into flames.
“You said…” Marissa’s voice shook. “You told me she knew. You told me you had an arrangement. You said she didn’t care as long as you kept up appearances!”
Richard squeezed his eyes shut. “Marissa, stop.”
“You lied to her too,” I said, looking at the other woman. My anger wasn’t for her. In a strange way, she was just another casualty. “He told you I was cold? That I was indifferent? That we lived separate lives?”
Marissa nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“He lied,” I said simply. “We shared a bed last night.”
The revulsion on Marissa’s face was absolute. She grabbed her children’s hands. “Come on,” she hissed to them. “We’re leaving.”
“Marissa, wait!” Richard reached out, but she recoiled.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat. And then, dragging her confused children, she ran out the front door.
Richard stood alone in the center of the room, the architect of his own demolition.
Chapter 3: The Eviction of a Legacy
The silence returned, but now it was different. It wasn’t shocked; it was judgmental. It was final.
Richard looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Eleanor. Please. It was… it got out of hand. I didn’t know how to stop it. I love you.”
“Do not,” I said, raising a finger, “insult my intelligence by using that word.”
My daughters were standing on either side of me now. A phalanx of female rage. They had always adored their father, placed him on a pedestal so high he couldn’t be seen clearly. Tonight, the pedestal crumbled into dust.
“You’re disgusting,” Caroline whispered to him.
I took a deep breath. I felt lighter than I had in decades. The secret was out. The pretense was over.
“This is not a negotiation, Richard,” I said. “This is a notice. Effective immediately, I am filing for divorce. The papers were drafted last week by my attorney, contingent on the final proof on that drive. Thanks to your little performance tonight, everything is confirmed.”
“Divorce?” Richard looked around the room, as if searching for an ally. “Eleanor, you can’t be serious. Our assets… our reputation…”
“Your reputation,” I corrected. “My reputation is intact. I’m the woman who survived you.”
I walked over to him and plucked the velvet box from his limp hand.
“I’ll be taking this back,” I said. “My lawyer needs it for the forensic accountants. They’re going to find every penny you stole from this family to fund your fantasy life.”
“You can’t do this,” he growled, a flash of his old temper surfacing. “I built this life! I paid for this house!”
“With money you earned while I raised your children, managed your home, and charmed your investors,” I snapped back. “I gave you my youth. I gave you my loyalty. You gave me lies. Now, I’m giving you consequences.”
