Chapter 3 - An Account Paid in Full
"Claire," I managed, taking half a step forward before her subtle step backward pinned me to the floorboards. "I... I went to the penthouse. Your things were gone."
"Most of the things in that penthouse were yours," she replied softly, setting her tools down on a scrap of green felt. "I only took what belonged to me."
"Your rings, Claire. The jewelry. The accounts." I gestured blindly, feeling the sheer absurdity of listing assets in a room filled with hand-stitched volumes. "You took nothing of value."
Claire looked directly into my eyes, her hazel gaze clear and unclouded. "I took my name back, Daniel. That was the only thing of value left between us."
"Let me explain," I pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the chasm. "Vanessa—what happened between us, it was a profound mistake. I threw her out yesterday. It’s over. I came here to bring you home."
A faint, sad smile touched the corner of her lips. "You still think this is about Vanessa."
"Isn't it?"
"Vanessa was just the symptom of a disease you caught years ago," she said, leaning against her workbench. "You stopped seeing me when your portfolio hit eight figures. You didn't notice when I stopped asking you to come home for dinner. You didn't notice when I spent weekends alone in libraries learning book restoration. You didn't notice when I opened this account seven months ago with money my grandmother left me."
Her voice didn't rise in anger. It carried the chilling weight of a verdict already finalized.
"I spent two years mourning our marriage while sleeping in the same bed with you," she whispered. "By the time Vanessa entered your life, Daniel, you were already living in a museum of a marriage. I chose to walk out of the exhibit."
Before I could answer, the brass chime above the door chimed again. A courier stepped inside holding a legal envelope.
"Delivery for Claire Bennett?"
"I'll take it," Claire said calmly, signing the pad with steady strokes. She glanced at the document, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine tension crossed her forehead.
May you like
She turned the paper toward me. It was an emergency injunction regarding marital assets, signed by a firm I knew all too well: Vanessa’s personal attorneys.
***
