Chapter 3 - THE UNCHALLENGED SEPARATION
The following days moved in a surreal blur. Mark cycled through the divorce process with almost cheerful efficiency. He asked about paperwork, filing dates, kitchen appliances, tools, and which television set he planned to take with him.
He never asked how my parents were coping. He certainly never asked how I was holding up.
One evening, he stood in the living room holding a metal measuring tape.
“I’m taking the leather recliner,” he announced.
“Okay.”
“And the bedroom television.”
“Fine.”
He stared at me, visibly irritated. “You really don’t care, do you?”
“You’re leaving me, Mark. I’m not going to start a war over a television.”
He seemed profoundly disappointed. Perhaps he had hoped for screaming matches and thrown plates because it would have justified his guilt. Instead, he was getting an easy exit, a clean break, and a recliner.
Three days later, I met Daniel’s corporate attorney, Jonathan Reeves, at his downtown office to review the official estate documents in detail. Jonathan walked me through the corporate evaluations, the children’s protected trust funds, Clare’s restricted distributions, and the airtight legal clauses.
“No future husband gets control of this empire simply by marrying Clare,” Jonathan emphasized, peering over his glasses. “The parameters are set in stone.”
“I understand,” I replied.
“And your personal feelings cannot influence administration.”
“I understand that completely, Jonathan.”
I hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of his mahogany desk. “Did Daniel know Mark was involved before he died?”
Jonathan became very quiet, carefully measuring his words. “Your brother knew enough to make certain necessary decisions.”
That was all he said. And it was more than enough.
A week later, Mark called while I was standing in the kitchen watering the fresh daffodils I had bought to brighten the room. He and Clare were house-hunting.
“We’re trying to figure out what we can realistically afford,” he said smoothly.
There it was. The underlying motive of his sudden rush.
“What do you think you can afford?” I asked.
“Well, that’s a bit complicated.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
He went quiet on the other end. Then he asked the question he had been circling around like a hawk. “Daniel left Clare a substantial estate, right?”
I leaned against the counter, my voice steady. “What makes you think that?”
“She mentioned there were investments. The company. Properties. She said she’ll be entirely taken care of.”
“That isn't what you asked, Mark.”
His tone instantly sharpened. “Emily, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t know anything about her financial standing.”
“You told me you were starting a brand new life with her.”
“I am.”
May you like
“Then start it.”
He clicked the phone dead in my ear.
