But she got in the car decisively, without a backward glance.
Door closed. The yellow taxi drove through the estate gates and vanished into the dusk.
Joseph appeared in the doorway. "Sir, should we have someone follow Mrs. Winston?"
"No need." I stared at where the taxi disappeared, my mind clearing, my voice calm again.
I said with certainty, "She's just being impulsive. Without me, she won't last three days."
Three days.
I'd give her three days.
When she missed the manor's soft beds, missed the dizzying haute couture in her closet, missed all the convenience and prestige the Mrs. Winston title brought—
She'd come back.
And then we'd talk properly. We'd have another child.
With that thought, I turned around, tore the divorce agreement in half, and threw it in the corner trash can.
Everything would get back on track.
I told myself.
This was just my wife having a little tantrum. Running away for a bit.
No big deal.
So why did my chest feel so empty, like someone had carved out a piece?
Damn it.
Must be because I skipped dinner.
Chapter Seven
Natalie
I came back to Gina's apartment. In all of Los Angeles, besides Gina's place, I had nowhere else to go.
"So you finally ditched that arrogant, controlling asshole." Gina shoved a glass of warm milk into my hands and dropped onto the couch across from me, the one buried under medical journals, crossing her legs. "Good for you, honey. I'm telling you, losing you is absolutely the biggest loss of Richard's life—though that guy who only sees spreadsheets and family interests probably won't realize it until the day he goes bankrupt."
I held the milk and managed a weak smile after Gina finished.
"Come on, I bet he's relieved right now. Finally rid of the boring wife who only caused him trouble at parties. Probably popping champagne with Olivia as we speak."
Even saying it, something twisted in my chest.
Pathetic. Even now, I still ached over Richard.
"I bet his face was priceless when you brought up divorce," Gina said, ripping open a bag of chips. "Seriously, what was hisreaction? Did he tear up the papers like confetti and declare, 'Woman, you can't escape'?"
She lowered her voice in a ridiculous imitation of some dramatic baritone. It was absurd.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Pretty close. He told me to think it over, reminded me my father's company survives on Winston." I sipped the milk. "I told him to let it flatline."
