Fiona straightened. “Did something go wrong?”
The woman gave a small sigh, then lowered herself into the chair and opened the file. “We got a response from her husband’s counsel.”
The words registered. It felt like watching someone else’s life play out from behind glass—quiet, weightless, inevitable.
The attorney continued. “He’s contesting.”
Fiona’s pulse picked up. “Why?” she asked, genuinely baffled. “I’m not asking for anything.”
The woman slid a few pages across the table. “That’s… sort of the problem.”
Fiona scanned the documents, brow furrowed. Her name. His. Legal language she couldn’t make sense of. Until one sentence jumped out at her like it was written in red ink:
Respondent requests petitioner be awarded the marital residence and fifty percent of future income.
Her mouth fell open. “He’s contesting to give me more?”
The rep tapped her pen against the desk. “He wants you to have the apartment outright. No strings. No repayment.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He loves that apartment. He—he bought it before we even met. He’s obsessed with that stupid crown molding.”
“He also wants you to receive half his income.”
Fiona stared at her. “For how long?”
“That’s the part we were unclear on. So we called to clarify.”
She waited a beat before saying softly, “Honey. I think he intends it to be for life.”
Fiona’s stomach flipped. “But that’s not how it works. That’s not what courts do.”
“No,” her rep agreed. “Not typically. Especially not in a no-kids, short-term marriage. But he’s pushing for it. His team framed it as non-negotiable on his end.”
Fiona shook her head slowly, like the motion might undo what she was hearing. “Why would he do that?”
Her rep’s tone softened. “Sometimes, people try to fix the harm they’ve caused with money.”
Fiona’s hands were cold on her lap. She didn’t know what to feel—rage? Gratitude? Shame? All of them tangled together, suffocating her breath.
“He thinks he can pay off what he did.”
“He might,” the woman said gently. “But you don’t have to accept it.”
Fiona looked down at the page again. The apartment. The income. She didn’t understand why he was giving it all to her.
CHAPTER 32
Dean
Dean rubbed his empty wrist.The donation from selling his watch had gone to Fiona's classroom—enough to cover supplies, field trips, whatever her students needed for the rest of the year.
It should have felt like enough. Like absolution.
It didn't.
Because Fiona deserved more. Fiona deserved a husband who respected her, respected her career. A husband who looked out for her. And even if she was divorcing him, Dean was going to be there for her. At long last.
Dean opened a new browser tab. The school district's website looked like it had been designed a decade ago. The "About Us" section was full of stock photos and vague mission statements. The "News" page hadn't been updated since last Christmas.
