Chapter 11 - The Conversation Brandon Couldn’t Escape
Months later, Brandon requested one conversation.
I refused private.
We met with attorneys present.
He looked tired.
Not ruined.
Not destitute.
Just stripped of the charm that used to make every difficult conversation slide sideways.
“I did love you,” he said.
I surprised both of us.
“I think you did.”
Relief moved across his face.
Then I continued.
“That’s why this is worse.”
He stared.
“You didn’t need to fake loving me.”
“No.”
“You loved me. And when your family showed you what my marriage could be worth, you decided love entitled you to use me.”
His face fell.
“I never saw it that way.”
“I know.”
“Mom pressured me.”
“Yes.”
“Dad made BCR look like the responsible move.”
“Yes.”
“Paige needed money.”
“Yes.”
He waited.
I didn’t rescue him.
“You still stole access to my account.”
He looked down.
“You still let them prepare a guaranty in my name.”
Silence.
“You still planned my resignation without speaking to me.”
“I thought once you understood—”
“There.”
“What?”
“That sentence.”
He frowned.
“You still think my agreement was supposed to arrive after your decision.”
Brandon cried then.
I felt sad.
Not tempted.
Not vindicated.
Sad.
“I became like them,” he whispered.
I thought of Erin’s email.
Young Brandon:
That doesn’t make it mine.
He had known once.
Then slowly learned not to.
“Yes,” I said.
“But you can decide whether you stay that way.”
He looked up.
“For us?”
“No.”
That answer hurt him.
“For yourself.”
May you like
Some consequences are not bargaining chips for rehabilitation.
Our marriage was over.
