Chapter 3 - The Ghost He Never Knew
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I stared at the man I had loved for eleven years, realizing I didn't know him at all. He wasn't a partner; he was a transaction.
I reached for the gold-plated pen resting beside the contract.
Grant blinked in surprise. “You should at least read it first, Claire.”
“My attorney already did,” I replied coolly.
Without a tremor in my hand, I signed every marked page. The scratch of the pen on paper was the only sound in the cavernous dining room. When I finished the last signature, I slid my two-carat diamond wedding ring off my finger and placed it squarely on top of the document.
Evelyn leaned forward, adjusting her reading glasses to inspect my signatures.
“Good,” she muttered, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “At least you understand reality.”
I stood up, smoothing the skirt of my dress.
Madison’s eyes widened, her hand instinctively protecting her belly. Grant looked strangely unsettled. I could see it in his eyes—he had expected me to scream, to throw my wine in his face, or to beg for a second chance.
Instead, I picked up my designer purse.
“My suitcases are already in the car,” I announced.
“You packed before dinner?” Grant asked, his voice wavering, the arrogant CEO façade cracking for a fraction of a second.
“I packed three days ago.”
His face changed. Color drained from his cheeks. For the first time all evening, the reality of the situation hit him. He had not dismissed me. I had been waiting for the financial permission to finally walk away.
As I reached the grand mahogany doorway, Evelyn couldn't resist one last strike.
“Claire, you should be on your knees in gratitude! Fifty million dollars is more than enough compensation for eleven very comfortable years.”
I froze. Slowly, I turned around to face the woman who had made my life a living hell.
“Comfortable?” The word echoed off the high ceilings. “Was it comfortable when I woke up alone after a painful surgery because your son sent an assistant to sign my discharge papers? Was it comfortable when you announced at Thanksgiving that my body was a useless wasteland?”
I locked eyes with Grant, letting all eleven years of silent fury bleed into my voice.
“Was it comfortable when you attended a luxury conference in Dallas while I miscarried your child alone on a cold hospital bathroom floor?”
Grant went completely, terrifyingly still. Madison gasped, gripping the mantelpiece to steady herself. Evelyn’s smug face turned the color of ash.
May you like
“What child?” Grant whispered, his voice cracking.
“The one you never bothered to ask about,” I said. Then, I turned my back on the Whitmore family and walked out the door.
