Then he just sat down on a leather bench in the lobby with his head lowered and his hands hanging between his knees. The way he used to sit when he was waiting for me to become the woman who couldn’t bear to see him uncomfortable for even one minute.
I didn’t go downstairs.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Harder than walking away from the pavilion. I sat in that conference room with my hands pressed flat on the table and watched my husband of nine years sitting alone on a bench, and every cell in my body wanted to go to him.
I didn’t.
Before he finally left, he handed Nina a letter.
It was six pages long. Handwritten. Full of promises.
He would go to counseling. He would remove Madison from any role in the company. He would apologize publicly, to my face and in front of the whole family. He would give me full access to every business account. He would sign a postnuptial agreement. He would never again let his family disrespect me in his presence.
