Chapter 8 - The Legal Clean Break
"I'm not coming home, Evan," I said, pulling a manila envelope out of my handbag and laying it on the table between us.
He stared at the envelope as if it were a explosive. "What is that?"
"The formal separation agreement and divorce petition," I answered calmly. "My attorney, Sarah, prepared them. We have no children, our finances are straightforward, and I am not asking for alimony. I only want my half of the house equity and my personal savings."
"No," Evan said, shaking his head violently, tears spilling over his cheeks. "No, Claire! I won't sign this! I'm not letting you walk away over one mistake!"
"It wasn't one mistake, Evan," I said, standing up from the table and buttoning my trench coat. "It was ten days of calculated choices. You chose to lie to me every single day. You chose to make me feel small so you could feel important somewhere else."
"Claire, please!" he begged, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing glances from the other patrons in the coffee shop. "Don't do this! Give us six months! Just six months of counseling!"
"I gave you eight years, Evan," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "And you traded them for ten days in Raleigh."
I turned and walked toward the door, my steps steady and deliberate.
"Claire!" he called out behind me, his voice breaking. "Claire, wait!"
I didn't look back. I pushed open the glass door, stepped out into the crisp autumn sunshine, and took a deep, clear breath of fresh air.
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Three days later, Evan’s attorney called Sarah to confirm that Evan had signed the separation agreement. He realized that fighting the divorce in court would mean exposing his corporate credit card expenses and his relationship with his subordinate to his company’s human resources board—a risk his career couldn't afford.
The house in Charlotte was put on the market the following week. It sold in five days.
