Chapter 5 - Wesley’s Choice
The next morning, Wesley ambushed me in the parking lot of my attorney’s office. He looked pathetic. The tailored Italian suits he used to wear had been replaced by a wrinkled button-down, and the arrogant swagger of a trust-fund heir had completely evaporated.
"Nora, please wait!" he begged, jogging toward me.
I stopped, keeping my distance as my lawyer, Natalie, stepped between us. "Mr. Pembroke, you are violating the distance mandate of the temporary order. Step back."
Wesley put his hands up, tears welling in his eyes. "I just want to talk to my wife. Please, Nora. Just five minutes."
I nodded to Natalie, indicating it was fine. "You have two minutes, Wesley. Speak."
"I'm sorry," he cried, his voice cracking. "I am so, so sorry. I should have stood up to her. I should have thrown that collar in the fireplace. I was just so used to letting my mother get her way so she wouldn't throw a tantrum. I was a coward."
I stared at him, feeling absolutely nothing. "You were a coward. But it’s worse than that, Wesley. You were complicit. You watched her hand me a maid’s apron at Christmas. You watched her mock my background. You let her treat your wife like trash because it was easier for you."
"I can change!" he pleaded, stepping forward. "My father kicked me out of the company. My mother won't speak to me because I didn't stop the DoD audit. I have nothing left, Nora. All I have is you and June. Let me come home. I’ll be the husband you need."
I let out a soft, sad laugh. "You don't want to be a husband, Wesley. You just need a new place to live now that daddy's money is gone."
Wesley flinched as if I had struck him.
"You had six years to choose me," I continued, my voice firm and unwavering. "You only chose me when you found out I had the power to crush you. That’s not love. That’s survival."
I reached into my bag and pulled out a pen, holding it out to him. "Sign the divorce papers, Wesley. If you fight me for my pension, I will take you to court and expose every single financial irregularity I found in your personal accounts during the DoD sweep. I know about the offshore account in the Caymans. I know about the 'business trips' to Vegas."
Wesley’s face went chalk white. He looked at the pen, then at the thick legal document Natalie was holding.
With shaking hands, he took the pen and signed his name.
May you like
"Goodbye, Wesley," I said.
I turned and walked to my car, leaving him standing alone in the parking lot, surrounded by the ruins of his own making.
