Chapter3

Three days in the hospital. No one came to pick me up.

I handled the discharge paperwork myself, called my own car. Back home, the lock hadn't been changed. I pushed the door open—a pair of women's shoes sat in the entryway. Not mine.

Voices came from the living room.

I walked over and stood in the dining room doorway.

Penny sat in my seat, wearing my pajamas, drinking soup. My mother-in-law Veronica sat beside her, serving food into her bowl.

Penny looked up and saw me. She froze, then smiled. That smile vanished instantly, replaced by a flustered look. "Vivian, you're back? I didn't know you were discharged today..."

"It's fine," I said. "Keep eating."

I turned and went upstairs.

Pushed open the closet room door—empty inside. My clothes, shoes, bags, all gone. The closet was full of unfamiliar dresses, the shelves lined with unopened high heels.

I stood in the doorway looking at that empty room.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

"Vivian," my mother-in-law's voice. "You came down? Perfect, I have something to tell you."

I turned around.

My mother-in-law stood in the hallway, hand on Penny's arm. Penny kept her head down, looking like she didn't dare face me.

"Penny lives here now," my mother-in-law said. "She's carrying Vance family seed, needs taking care of. From now on she runs this house—if you need anything, discuss it with her."

I looked at my mother-in-law.

"Where are my things?"

"Put away," she said lightly. "Those old clothes of yours were useless anyway. I gave them to the maids. You don't go out much anyway—doesn't matter what you wear."

I looked at her. Five years ago when I married into this family, she'd looked at me the same way, up and down, then said to my mother: "Your daughter isn't good enough for my son."

I'd thought after five years she'd change at least a little.

I was wrong.

"Fine," I said. "Where do I sleep?"

"Still in your old room," my mother-in-law said. "Penny sleeps in the guest room—she's used to that one. You have a problem with that?"

"No problem."

I turned toward the bedroom.

Behind me Penny said softly: "Is Vivian angry? Maybe I should move back out..."

"Move what?" My mother-in-law's voice rose. "You're carrying the Vance family's only heir—you're more important than anyone. Her angry? What right does she have to be angry? Married five years without laying a single egg, and she has the nerve to be angry?"

I stopped walking.

Then kept going.

That evening Damian came home.

I sat in the bedroom, hearing laughter downstairs. Penny's laughter, my mother-in-law's laughter, his laughter.

Like a family.

I went downstairs and stood in the living room doorway.

Penny nestled on the sofa, Damian sat beside her, hand on her shoulder. My mother-in-law sat across from them, smiling ear to ear as she watched them.

All three looked at me simultaneously.

"Vivian," Damian spoke first, tone as flat as if calling a stranger. "You came down. Perfect, there's something I need to tell you."

I walked over and stood in front of the coffee table.

"I want a divorce," I said.

The living room went quiet for two seconds.

Then Damian laughed.

That laugh made me freeze. He laughed so hard his shoulders shook, turning to look at Penny and my mother-in-law. "Hear that? She says she wants a divorce."

My mother-in-law laughed too. Penny covered her mouth laughing.

"Vivian," Damian stood up, walked in front of me, looking down at me. "You know we signed a prenup, right?"

I knew. Before marriage he'd made me sign it, said it was the rule in wealthy families.

"Then you know what's written in the agreement?" He leaned close, voice lowered but every word crystal clear. "You leave with nothing. Not a cent."

He stepped back, looking me up and down. "Where would you live? On the street?"

I looked at him.

This man five years ago had knelt before my parents, saying he'd only love me for life. This man had stood outside my family's door for three days and nights, nearly fainting, just to get my father to agree to our marriage.

"Damian," my mother-in-law interjected from behind, "stop wasting words on her. Show her the agreement, let her give up hope."

Damian pulled out a folder from under the coffee table and tossed it at my feet.

"Read it yourself. If you don't understand, get a lawyer."

I looked down at that folder. Brown paper, edges slightly curled. Five years ago when I signed it, same folder.

"Vivian," Penny's voice was soft. "Why don't you stay for now, move when you find a place. I don't mind."

I looked up at her. She leaned in my husband's arms, hand on her belly, smile on her face.

That smile—I'd seen it in the mirror.

Every time Damian said "not coming home for dinner tonight," I'd smile like that at myself.

"No need," I said. "I'm moving out now."

I turned and went upstairs.