Chapter 2
He knew my injured hand couldn’t cook.
So why hadn’t I ordered for him?
He did text me thirty minutes ago saying he’d be home.
Eight years of marriage meant I’d always dropped everything to respond.
My shrug caught him off guard. “Phone was charging. Missed your text.”
Antonio thrust a gift bag at me, jaw tight.
“Your perfume’s almost empty.”
I kept chewing sesame chicken. “Give it to Valda. Too fancy for me.”
The Gucci bag in Valda’s latest post featured his Vacheron Constantin watch in the background.
When my bandaged hand reached for more fries, he grabbed my wrist.
“Let me-”
I jerked back. The perfume bottle smashed against the floorboards.
“Christ, Grace!” He kicked glass shards aside. “You’re still pissed about this morning’s wait?”
“Not pissed.”
“Bullshit.” His laugh turned cruel. “Thirty–two going on thirteen. Still throwing silent treatments like some lovesick teenager.”
1206
Chapter
11
Three years older, I’d endured his jabs about my age and “empty head” for
years.
He’d savor my meltdowns, camera ready for the waterworks.
Tonight. I didn’t cry.
I simply replied, “Think what you want.”
Gathering takeout containers, I grabbed my purse.
Old Grace would’ve staged dramatic exits hoping he’d chase her.
But today. I just left. He followed me to the elevator for the first time. ever. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Mom’s. She’s got veggies.”
The doors closed on his stunned face.
Two hours later at the wine bar, my phone buzzed.
Antonio: “?”
Carly Brennan gasped at the screen. “You’re ignoring him? He’ll lose it.”
Our friend group knew me as the queen of placating his tantrums.
I ordered another round instead.
2:47 AM. Antonio stood chugging water when I returned. No questions. No glances.
He didn’t care where I went, and I ignored him, going straight to the bathroom.
As soon as I lay down on the bed, Antonio snuggled up to me.
17.95
12.06
I shoved him off after three seconds.
“Grace.” He flicked on the nightstand lamp, furious. “It’s your fertility window.”
We weren’t child–free by choice.
These scheduled attempts were our last thread.
Rolling over, I mumbled into the pillow. “I’m exhausted.”
Hearing the rejection he’d used countless times come from my own mouth, Antonio stood there stunned.
The guestroom door slammed minutes later.
I knew he’d be sleeping there for the next few days.
Old Grace would’ve sobbed till dawn.
But tonight, I slept nine hours straight.
The next morning. I aced three presentations.
When my boss joked about rewards, I slid over a sticky note, “That divorce lawyer you mentioned.”
Day nine of separate bedrooms. Antonio made my favorite bacon–egg skillet before noon, then retreated to sleep till 3 PM.
That afternoon, his childhood buddy’s wedding photos flooded our group. chat.
There stood Antonio, Valda clinging to his arm like a blushing bride.
The group photo went viral in five minutes. Antonio called.
“Grace, don’t get the wrong idea. Ray’s wedding was midweek, so…”
12.06
Chapter 2
“Why would I?”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be?”
He cleared his throat. “Wait at your office after work. I’ll pick you up for dinner.”
The call ended before I could refuse.
Valda occupied the passenger seat when his Porsche arrived.
“Oh. Grace tagging along?”
I smiled coolly at her sarcasm and opened the back–car door.
Antonio kept catching my eye in the rearview mirror during the drive.
I just kept looking at my phone, giving brief replies before falling silent.
Ray Martin greeted us in the private dining room. “Damn shame you missed my vows, Grace.”
I knew it meant let’s appease the jealous wife.
However, I wasn’t mad at all.
“Happy belated.” I headed straight for the charcuterie board.
Noticing I had no intention of delving deeper, Ray gaped.
He had covered Antonio’s “business trip” to Cabo with Valda for months.
Once, I’d confronted with hotel receipts in his own driveway.
He was never this shocked back then.
58.27%
120D
Halfway through truffle risotto, the manager brought three Bordeaux bottles. “Mr. Kaufman, shall we open yours and Miss Valda’s reserve?”
Silence choked the room. “Pour them all,” I said, excusing myself.
Antonio cornered me near the restroom. “Those were for closing the Henderson deal.”
I shrugged and entered the restroom.
Returning. I found him gulping wine meant for Valda’s glass.
Two years ago, nearly identical scene.
They’d shoved shots at my allergy–swollen throat while Antonio pinned.
my jaw open.
“Just fucking drink. I’ll pump your stomach after.”
That night’s fever birthed different pain days later – ER lights blinding me as doctors said, “Chemical pregnancy.”
“Should’ve stayed home like I told you!” Antonio had screamed over hospital beeps. “This is why women shouldn’t show off in front of men!”
Grabbing my bag, I walked out.
Home. Midnight. Antonio slammed the door.
“What’s your damage? Humiliating me like that!”
Silence. He ripped off his tic. “Fine. Let’s divorce.”
The second time he’d said those words.
The first was over “snooping” his texts.
I’d groveled then, snot dripping on his shoes, swearing eternal obedience.
1206
“Okay,” I said.
