"You..." I looked up at her eyes, searching for any sign she was lying, any hesitation, anything to prove this paper was fake. I found nothing.
"Richard," Natalie's voice stayed soft. "Let's stop torturing each other."
"Torturing?" That word finally ignited the anger I'd been suppressing, mixed with shock and a stabbing pain. I grabbed her wrist. "When have we been torturing each other? Natalie, we're married! If you think there's a problem with our marriage, we can fix it, but not with some goddamn divorce papers!"
Natalie tried to pull away, but I gripped harder. I wanted her to take it back—take back those words, that damn divorce agreement. But she lifted her face, looked me straight in the eye. No fear there, just a resolve that made my heart race.
"You never treated me like your wife." Natalie stopped struggling physically, but her words kept fighting. "What am I to you? An asset that needs regular maintenance? A pretty vase sitting in the Mrs. Winston spot? You give me jewelry because Mrs. Winston should have it; you take me to galas because appearances matter; your occasional concern is because you think that's what husbands do!"
Natalie's breathing quickened, an excited flush rising on her pale face.
She'd never know how damn attractive she looked like this.
If she wasn't accusing me right now, if I hadn't just learned about losing the baby, I would've kissed her.
Natalie didn't know my thoughts. Her accusations continued. "You won't even acknowledge our marriage publicly. Everyone thinks Olivia should be Mrs. Winston, and you, you've never really denied it. You enjoy the ambiguity, the choice, keeping mein a position where I can be compared, judged, and then telling me 'be good'!"
"It's not like that." God, was this how she saw me? Some heartless, arrogant bastard?
"Isn't it?" Natalie laughed coldly. "Then tell me, if Olivia had called you today, would you have left her alone at the hospital? Would you have abandoned her at a party, made her wear someone else's rejected dress, let everyone treat her like a joke?"
I opened my mouth. No sound came out.
Because I realized I couldn't answer that.
I'd apparently never considered these questions...
Natalie looked at me. The last light in those blue eyes went out.
"We'll have another child," I said. "If the baby was the trigger—"
"This has nothing to do with the baby." She stopped looking at me, bent down to zip the suitcase, her voice utterly exhausted. "Sign the papers, Richard. I'm tired of playing house. I'm done."
"Natalie!"
I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist.
"Natalie, listen." I lowered my voice, each word forced through clenched teeth. "I admit, I didn't... do well enough before. But divorce? You think this is a game? Our families are tied together. Your father's company gets half its orders from Winston—"
"So what?" Natalie looked up at me. "So you're threatening me? 'Come back and be Mrs. Winston, or I'll bankrupt your father'?"
This time, she yanked her hand free, the force surprising me.
"Let him go bankrupt then." She said it without hesitation. "He got a good price for me when I married you. Now I don't owe him anything. And I sure as hell don't owe you."
God, she'd throw everything away just to divorce me?
"Where will you go?" My voice was strained.
"That's not your concern anymore." Natalie opened the door. Walking past me, she didn't even glance my way. "Sign quickly. It's better for both of us."
Light from the hallway illuminated her profile, outlining her in soft white. In that moment, she was breathtakingly beautiful, but suddenly she felt impossibly far away.
After Natalie left, the bedroom held only my ragged breathing and the rising wind outside.
I don't know how long I stood there before slowly walking to the window.
Below, Natalie's small figure loaded the suitcase into a taxi's trunk. Maybe because she was weak from the miscarriage, she stumbled slightly. My heart clenched. I was about to turn and go after her.
