193 The Ex–Husband’s Gambit
193 The Ex–Husband’s Gambit
“She’s going to skip out on the bill, isn’t she?” Charlotte asked, watching Fiona’s retreating back.
Freedom washed over me like a wave. No more fighting, no more drawn–out legal battles. I was free of the man who had taken my blood, my love, and my trust for six years, only to discard me when it suited him.
We finished our meal with lighter spirits, sharing stories and laughing until our sides hurt. By the time we parted ways, Charlotte heading to Cora’s guest suite for her stay, I felt genuinely happy for the first time in months.
“You think you’re so clever,” she hissed, leaning closer. “Just wait. I’ll make sure everyone in the industry knows you’re desperate enough to accept handouts.”
Back at my apartment, I kicked off my heels and checked my mailbox. Among the usual bills and advertisements was an official–looking envelope from the county court. I tore it open, heart racing as I scanned the document.
I sank onto my couch, the paper trembling slightly in my hands. Six months after Alistair had destroyed our wedding for Ivy’s “dying wish,” three months after his desperate attempts to win me back once he discovered her cancer was faked, and one month after our rushed settlement–it was finally, legally over.
made
“And yet you that choice. No one forced you.”
“The divorce is final, Alistair. Our agreement stands. You stay away from me and my business, I keep quiet about your sister’s embezzlement,”
I reached for my phone to text Cora but was interrupted by an incoming call. The number was all too familiar.
He sighed heavily. “I’ve apologized for that a thousand times. I was manipulated. You know that.”
I bristled at his implication. “Even for me? What exactly are you suggesting?”
My finger hovered over the decline button, but curiosity won out. Why was he calling now, just hours after our divorce was finalized?
193 The Ex–Husband’s Gambit
“I said we’ll happily accept your offer to pay for our dinner,” I replied sweetly. “How thoughtful of you to remember old classmates during difficult times.”
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and lingering resentment.
“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But you’re still Hazel. Still fundamentally decent. That’s why I loved you.”
“Send Gloria to prison,” he clarified. “You don’t have it in you to be that ruthless. Not to someone already suffered enough.”
Whole
## Hazel’s POV
“Don’t test me,” I warned. “I’m not the same woman who let you walk all over her.”
“It doesn’t feel real,” he said. “Six years together, and now we’re strangers.”
“She’s already lost everything, Hazel,” he said, his voice hardening. “Her reputation, her career, her friends. Sending her to prison would be cruel, even for you.”
“So it’s done, then.” His voice was soft, almost wistful. “Just like that.”
Fiona’s smug smile faltered at my unexpected acceptance of her “charity.” She’d clearly expected me to refuse her insulting offer with indignation.
The crisp evening air greeted me as I walked to my car. The encounter with Fiona had been unpleasant, but my reaction filled me with quiet pride. I had changed. The woman who would have been mortified by such a public confrontation now handled it with poise and even humor.
“What?” she stammered.
He hung up before I could respond, leaving me staring at my phone in shocked anger. His parting words echoed in my mind, taunting me with their accuracy. Was my compassion still my greatest weakness? Had I not changed enough?
“Loved,” I repeated bitterly. “Past tense.”
“The evidence against Gloria. You’re not really going to send it to the police, are you?”
I sipped my water calmly. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows how incredibly kind and charitable you’ve become. Supporting struggling designers–what a philanthropist you are, Fiona.
193 The Ex–Husband’s Gambit
I could almost hear him smiling through the phone. “You haven’t changed as much as you think, Hazel. You’ll never send Gloria to prison because your conscience won’t let you. And we both know it.
Cora burst into laughter. “God, Hazel, that was brilliant! The old you would have shrunk away or politely declined.”
I closed my eyes, steeling myself against the familiar timbre of his voice. “Yes, Alistair. It’s done. We’re officially divorced.”
“The old me is gone,” I said simply. “I’m done letting people like Fiona get under my skin.”
His confidence unsettled me. Was I that transparent? True, the thought of actually following through on my threat made me uncomfortable. Gloria had been punished professionally and socially already. But Alistair didn’t need to know my doubts.
“We were strangers the moment you chose Ivy over me,” I replied coolly. “The moment you took the wedding dress I made with my own hands and gave it to her.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think you’ll do it,” he finally said.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “You’ve changed. The Hazel I knew would never use someone’s mistakes as leverage.
“The Hazel you knew died the day you abandoned her,” I snapped. “And may I remind
you
that your sister’s ‘mistakes‘ were felonies that nearly bankrupted our company.”
Ah, there it was. The real reason for his call.
“Hello?” I answered cautiously.
“With what?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I replied, already reaching for my purse. “But it was worth it to see her face.”
Charlotte raised her glass in Fiona’s direction. “To old friends with deep pockets.”
The divorce decree sat beside me on the couch, the culmination of months of pain and legal wrangling. Yet instead of feeling triumphant, I felt cornered by my own morality- exactly as Alistair intended.
193 The Ex–Husband’s Gambit
Her face reddened to match her crimson lipstick. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed toward the exit, her designer dress swishing dramatically.
“Are you really going through with it?” he finally asked.
“Excuse me?”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant. We’re done, Alistair. The papers are signed. Move
on.”
The divorce was final.
Alistair.
Cora caught on immediately, her lips curving into a sly smile as she added, “Yes, so We’ve ordered the aged Wagyu steaks and plan to get the 1982 Bordeaux with dessert.”
generou
Fiona’s perfect features contorted with rage. She hadn’t expected me to call her bluff, especially not with such composure.
“That’s not what I meant-”
