Chapter 8
He called me three days later.
I almost didn’t answer.
But something in me wanted to hear him say it.
Wanted to hear him admit he had lost.
His voice was rough on the line.
Tired.
Broken.
“Lauren,” he said. “Please. Can we meet? Just the two of us. No lawyers. No games.”
I considered it.
“No,” I said. “Whatever you have to say, you can say over the phone.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
The words hung in the air.
Too little.
Much too late.
“I know that doesn’t fix anything,” he went on. “I know I hurt you. I hurt the kids. I threw away the only good thing I ever had. I was stupid. And arrogant. And I thought because I had money, I could have anything I wanted. I thought I could fix any mistake with a check.”
He paused.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to take me back. I know that’s impossible. I’m begging you, Lauren. Don’t put me in prison. I’ll sign anything you want. Full custody. Every penny of the assets. The apartment. The stocks. Everything. Just make the criminal case go away. I’ll leave the state. I’ll change my name. You will never have to see me or hear from me again. Just don’t make me die in a cage.”
I held the phone away from my face for a second and breathed.
I thought of the night I sat on our bed, holding a photograph that had destroyed my whole world.
I thought of my babies, sick and crying, while their father was in a hotel room with another woman.
I thought of the widows and retirees who had lost their life savings because he wanted a nicer watch and a prettier mistress.
I thought of every time I had curled up in the dark, convinced I was worthless, convinced no one would ever love me again.
“No,” I said.
His breath caught.
“Lauren —”
“You don’t get to buy your way out of this one,” I said. “That’s the trick you used for your whole life, isn’t it? Money fixes everything. Well, not this time. You hurt people. You stole from people. You destroyed lives. And you are going to answer for every single bit of it.”
I paused.
“You can sign the papers. You can give up every asset. You can walk away from the twins forever. But the criminal case? That is not mine to stop. And even if it were — I wouldn’t.”
He made a sound halfway between a sob and a snarl.
“You are going to regret this,” he said, and for a second the old Cole was back, sharp and cruel. “You think you won? You think you’re some kind of hero? You’ve just made sure your children grow up knowing their father is a criminal. That’s on you, Lauren. Every bit of it.”
May you like
I hung up.
I did not speak to him again.
