Chapter 12
Soren’s face was dark as thunder as he jabbed a finger at the section about asset division. “I don’t recall you ever discussing the division of property with me.”
Evangeline blinked, caught off guard by the question. The Fawkes family was never short on money. Soren had always treated her coldly, but when it came to finances, he’d never quibbled with her–if anything, when he’d tried to coax her into divorce. before, the terms he offered were far more generous than this.
Still, she didn’t dwell on it. She calmly handed Soren the paperwork her lawyer had prepared, outlining her reasons for claiming a share and the itemized breakdown.
“So, what you’re saying is–marrying me was a loss for you?” Soren snorted after reading through the documents. “Evangeline, with your capability, pulling in five thousand a month would be your limit. Who gave you the nerve to write yourself a twenty–thousand dollar salary?”
“And while we’re at it–Macy’s been running the house for years. You, as Mrs. Fawkes, living in comfort, where do you get the audacity to ask for a housekeeping allowance?”
“And as for the rest…
Soren dismissed each of her claims, shooting them down one by one.
Evangeline’s face drained of color. It wasn’t the loss of money that hurt. What stung was realizing that all the years she’d sacrificed for him, the future she’d given up, the care she’d devoted–none of it meant anything to him.
She bit her lip, her breath coming unsteady. She couldn’t prove her work, but she didn’t want to give in so easily. “I’ve been managing the house all these years-”
“You? Managing?” Soren cut her off with a derisive laugh.
He grabbed her arm, ignoring her attempts to pull away, and marched her out the door. Pressing her to the railing, he forced her to look down at the mess below.
Macy was bent over, sweeping up the clutter.
“Sorry, Mr. Fawkes, I’ll have this cleaned up right away!” Macy straightened, bowing respectfully the instant she saw Soren.
Soren’s smile grew colder as he looked back at Evangeline. “Is this the house you claim to have managed?”
“Then what’s Macy doing here?”
Evangeline opened her mouth to defend herself, but Soren turned to Macy, his ton mocking. “Macy, why don’t you tell us? Mrs. Fawkes says she’s been running this house all these years. You’ve been here longer than I have–why don’t you share with us what she’s done?”
Macy’s hand froze on the broom. In the next instant, she collapsed to her knees, slapping her thigh and wailing, “Ma’am, what are you implying? If you’re not happy with my work, just say the word and I’ll do better! How could you erase everything
I’ve done?”
“My parents depend on me, my kids too–our whole family relies on this job Mr. Fawkes gave me. I can’t lose it, I just can’t!”
Macy sobbed as if her heart would break.
Anyone who didn’t know Macy as well as Evangeline did might have been taken in by her act. Honestly, with talent like that, Macy belonged in Hollywood, not scrubbing floors.
Soren glanced at Evangeline, his sneer still in place. “Anything else you want to say?”
What was left to say? Evangeline gave a bitter, self–mocking smile. Soren’s distrust was plain–he’d sooner believe a stranger than the wife who had shared his life for five years.
“Nothing,” she said, the words hollow. “How do you think we should divide things,
then?”
She looked at Soren–the face she’d once loved, now cold and distant, his dark eyes. as frigid as a midnight lake in winter.
“Nothing for you,” Soren said, his voice icy. “You leave with what you came with.”
For a moment, Evangeline was stunned. Nothing. As if every sacrifice, every year meant absolutely nothing.
She’d always known Soren looked down on her, but she hadn’t realized he would deny every bit of what she’d given.
A tightness gripped her chest. “Why?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He had to know no one would accept such terms. But after all these years of wanting a divorce, of longing to be with Poppy–now that Poppy was back, why was he making things this hard? Did he… not want the divorce after all?
