Chapter 19 - The Last Time I Saw My Husband
Nathan entered the visitation room slowly.
There was no glass between us this time.
A guard remained outside.
Nathan sat across from me.
“You look different.”
He said.
“I am.”
He nodded.
“My attorneys say you’re divorcing me.”
“I already filed.”
“I figured.”
I slid an envelope across the table.
He did not touch it.
“I keep thinking about that night.”
I said nothing.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Nathan looked down.
“I thought power meant no one could tell me no.”
“That sounds accurate.”
“I kept winning.”
“Contracts.”
“Money.”
“Influence.”
“And every time something worked, I thought it proved I deserved more.”
He finally looked at me.
“Then Celeste came.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“Do not turn her into your excuse.”
“I know.”
I leaned forward.
“You had opportunities to stop.”
“When you pushed me down the stairs.”
“When you lied about my mental health.”
“When you moved money.”
“When you threatened employees.”
“When you raised that whip.”
“Every second was another opportunity.”
“You chose yourself every time.”
Nathan’s eyes became wet.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only distance.
“I loved you once.”
I said.
“That is the part I had trouble accepting.”
“You didn’t become cruel in one night.”
“You became cruel gradually.”
“And I kept remembering the man you used to be instead of seeing the man in front of me.”
He whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed he meant it.
That did not change anything.
“Your apology belongs to the person you were before you made those choices.”
I stood.
Nathan finally opened the envelope.
Inside were the divorce papers.
And one photograph.
Our wedding day.
He stared at it.
“Why give me this?”
“Because I don’t want it.”
His face crumpled.
I walked toward the door.
“Claire.”
I stopped without turning.
“What happens to Blackthorn?”
I thought about the grand hall.
The staircase.
The cellar.
The chandeliers.
Four years of memories built into stone.
“I donated it.”
“To who?”
“A foundation for women rebuilding their lives after domestic abuse.”
Nathan said nothing.
I finally looked back.
“You told me to remember my place.”
“I did.”
“My place was never on my knees in your house.”
I opened the door.
May you like
“My place is wherever I choose to stand.”
That was the last time I saw Nathan Ashford as my husband.
