How long?”
He didn’t flinch. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, Edward. It matters to me.”
He let out a tired sigh, as if I were the one inconveniencing him. And then he said the words that would echo in my head for years.
“A smart wife would look the other way and keep her family together. You’re the one blowing this up, Claire. Not me.”
Something inside me went still. Not broken—just quiet, like a room after the lights go out. For years I had explained him away, smoothed over his moods, made myself smaller so he could feel bigger. But watching him stand there and hand me the blame for his own betrayal, I finally understood. He was never going to admit he had hurt me. Not then. Not ever.
So I filed for divorce.
And Edward made me pay for it in every way he could. He kept the
