Page 59 of The Husband I Left

And then there’s the other path, the one my father took. Staying in a marriage devoid of love or passion, maintaining appearances while seeking fulfillment elsewhere. Living a double life where neither half is truly satisfying.

Is this what awaits me? Either Henry’s desperate pursuit of something he can never find, or my father’s cold compromise of a life?

The thought hits me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me into sudden clarity. I don’t want either of those futures. I don‘t want to be Henry, and I don’t want to be my father.

I stand up so abruptly that Henry stops mid-sentence, looking surprised.

“I have to go,” I say, already pulling out my wallet and throwing down enough cash to cover both our drinks.

“Oh,” Henry blinks up at me, clearly caught off guard. “Well, have a good night then. We should get lunch sometime, talk about—“

But I’m already walking away, his voice fading behind me as I push through the door and into the night air. The cold slaps against my face, and I take a deep breath, feeling clearer than I have in months.

I get in my car and drive, not back to the penthouse but to my parents’ house. The roads are nearly empty at this hour, and I make it there in record time, my thoughts racing ahead of me. By the time I pull into the circular driveway, I know exactly what I need to do.

I pound on the front door, not caring about the lateness of the hour or the scene I’m causing. Frederick answers, his usual composure slipping just slightly when he sees me standing there.

“Mr. Oliver,” he says, a question in his voice. “Is everything all right?”

“I need to speak with my father,” I tell him, already moving to push past him. “Immediately.”

Frederick hesitates, blocking the doorway with his body. “Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning. Your parents have already—“

“I can’t wait,” I say, more forcefully than I intended. I push past him, then pause, shame washing over me at my rudeness. “I’m sorry, Frederick. But this is important.”

He looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “Your father is in his office,” he calls after me as I’m already moving down the hallway.

I make my way through the familiar house, my footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The door to my father’s office looms before me, and without pausing to knock or reconsider, I push it open.

My father looks up from his desk, his expression surprised. For a moment, we just stare at each other.

“I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.” His voice is cool; his eyes fixed on my face.

I step fully into the room, closing the door behind me.

“The board can’t fire me,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.

My father raises an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

I meet his gaze directly. “Because I quit.”

Chapter 20

Oliver

My father looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. His jaw hangs open slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief. I stand my ground, meeting his gaze without flinching, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Go home,” he finally says. “You’re drunk.”

I shake my head. “I’ve never been less drunk in my life.”

His eyes narrow, studying me with the look that used to make me squirm as a child. Now it just makes me stand straighter.

“You’ve been drinking,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes, I had a couple. But I’m clear-headed. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

He leans back in his chair, never taking his eyes off me. The leather creaks beneath him as he settles into a more comfortable position. I recognize the tactic; he‘s trying to make me feel like a foolish child, to establish control over the situation. But for the first time in my life, I’m not playing along.