“I was.”
“You were photographed in Maui.”
“I went afterward.”
“The hotel folio is dated March 14.”
“Then the date is wrong.”
“The corporate card charge is also dated March 14.”
He stared at me.
For years, Graham had been good at talking through uncomfortable numbers.
If a project exceeded its budget, he had an explanation.
If an expense landed in the wrong category, he had an explanation.
If a vendor payment arrived late, he had an explanation.
But explanations work best when only one person knows the facts.
That night, his entire family had supplied the missing evidence themselves.
Margaret stepped between us.
“Enough.
This is a family matter.”
“No,” I said.
“The affair is a family matter.
The company card is not.”
Her face went rigid.
She glanced at the folder.
Then at the separation agreement beside my plate.
For the first time, I understood why they had been so eager to have me sign it before I left the house.
The papers weren’t simply a dignified way to end a marriage.
They were designed to finish the evening quickly.
Humiliate me.
Make me emotional.
Put a pen in my hand.
Get me out before I started asking the kind of questions Margaret had spent years mocking me for asking.
I picked up the agreement.
Graham relaxed by a fraction, apparently thinking I had surrendered.
I flipped through it instead.
There were clauses about property, confidentiality, mutual non-disparagement, access to household records, and the quick division of personal belongings.
Everything neat.
Everything prepared.
Everything waiting before I had even been told my husband had taken another woman to Maui.
“You had this drafted before tonight,” I said.
Margaret crossed her arms.
“We were trying to spare everyone an ugly process.”
“You invited a priest to watch you play honeymoon photographs.”
The priest closed his eyes.
Caroline muttered, “You always twist things.”
I almost laughed.
They had staged my humiliation like a ceremony, yet somehow my refusal to cooperate was indecent.
Paige stood slowly.
Her face had lost the triumphant nervousness she had worn earlier.
“Graham,” she said, “you told me the trip was paid for with your own money.”
He snapped, “Paige, not now.”
The speed of his answer told me more than the words.
I looked at her promise ring.
“Did he tell you he was in Dallas first?”
She swallowed.
“He said he had meetings.”
“In Dallas?”
“I don’t know.
He said work.”
