Hartwell Industries wasn’t simply a source of income.
It was the result of decades of work.
And hundreds of families depended on its future.
“Margaret,” I said quietly, “this isn’t only about my marriage anymore.”
“I know.”
“I want the board to handle everything properly. We need to protect the employees and the company.”
“Then we’ll proceed tomorrow.”
That evening, Julian came home carrying flowers.
He walked into the kitchen with an expression that suggested he expected a quick reconciliation.
“Maya, can we please forget today’s misunderstanding?”
I looked at the bouquet.
“Misunderstanding?”
He placed the flowers on the counter.
“Celeste gets jealous. She doesn’t always think before speaking.”
I stared at him.
“Why does she believe you’re her husband?”
Julian sighed.
“Because I told her our marriage was basically over.”
The words settled between us.
I looked at the man I’d trusted for seven years.
