Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
She’s always spent an obscene amount of money on her appearance, but I was always genuinely happy to give her everything she ever wanted. Her infidelity, however, is a flaw I refuse to overlook.
She takes a seat at the table, offering no word of apology for being late. I’m tempted to say something, but I know better and keep my mouth shut. I can feel her looking at me and I look back in silence.
“Oh, this is what it has come to, has it?” she huffs. “You can’t even acknowledge me?”
I take a deep breath. I’m going to need all the self-control I can muster for this meeting.
“Thank you for finally joining us, Cordelia,” I say. I give Wahlberg a look and he slides the paperwork across the table toward her and Goldberg.
“Mrs. Ford, everything is as previously agreed, but please take your time to read over it again and then sign… here.” He indicates where to sign, and Cordelia purses her lips in anger.
“Mrs. Ford…” she mutters bitterly as she peruses the papers in front of her. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to being called by my maiden name again soon.”
“It’s one of the conditions for granting you all of the assets that we are,” Wahlberg responds indifferently, handing her a pen. “Mr. Ford would like his name back.”
She takes the pen, frowning, the nib hovering inches from the page. She pauses and asks Goldberg if he’s read it already. Goldberg nods at Cordelia, giving her the go-ahead.
But she puts down the pen and sighs, wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek. She looks up at me, her long lashes fluttering and her bottom lip quivering. Once upon a time I would have felt something. But her act no longer fools me.
She reaches out her hand to touch mine, but I pull away before she can.
“Ian,” she whispers, “please. I know you don’t really want this. We’re good together. We can try again. It’ll be different this time.”
“It’s too late, Cordelia. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“Maybe,” she retorts, regarding me in speculation. “But that doesn’t mean I have to agree to the divorce.”
My gut tightens in frustration and we glare at each other over the table. I knew deep down that she was going to fight until the end, and I just hope that whatever Wahlberg has up his sleeve will finally convince her.
“I know why you want this so much,” she continues, her eyes narrowed to slits of contempt. “It’s what your dumb little floozy wants, isn’t it?”
At the mention of Sara, I can’t help but feel my patience slip. “Leave her out of this,” I warn.
Wahlberg clears his throat loudly. “Let’s keep this civil,” he says to both of us in his usual monotone voice. I’m breathing deeply through my nose, trying to control my rage.
He turns to Cordelia. “If you really want to take this to court, by all means we can,” he says. “However, I can assure you it will be to your detriment, financially speaking. Mr. Ford’s offer is extremely generous, given the circumstances. And we have solid proof of your affair.”
“Proof?” she snorts. Her haughty sneer makes me want to throttle her. “Going through my credit card statements doesn’t prove anything. And if Barry wants to testify, I have ways of discouraging him.”
She’s drumming her long, manicured talons on the table, looking smug, but I know her better than that and I can tell she’s nervous.
“Technically, it’s not your credit card, is it?” Wahlberg cuts in, matter-of-factly. “But that’s irrelevant at this point.”
She raises her eyebrow at me and her voice softens. “Ian, we could forget about all this silliness and go back to how we used to be. Summers in Europe, winters in the Caribbean. You can’t deny what great times we had.”
I shake my head. I have no idea what to say. She just doesn’t get it. We’re past the point of no return. There’s no going back.
Wahlberg retrieves a large brown envelope from his briefcase and hands it to her without a word. We watch her closely as she opens it.
She pulls out the typewritten, signed note inside, then flicks through the pages, her eyes growing wide with horror. Barry provided us with tapes and images of their affair. And it’s all in there.
“How did you…?” she starts, but her voice trails off and I can’t help but feel disgusted.
I hadn’t been keen on getting the written testimony from Barry, my accountant, but Wahlberg convinced me it was necessary. By the look on her face, he may have been right.
She’s glowering at my lawyer, and at me, her face flushed with anger. He goes to take the envelope back from her, but she grabs it from him and starts ripping it to pieces in her fury.