I nearly closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not remorse. Repositioning.
“She used me,” he said. “She manipulated me. You know how ambitious she was.”
I let the rain fill the silence between us.
“You stood beside her while she announced your engagement at our anniversary dinner.”
“I panicked.”
“No,” I replied. “You performed.”
He looked away.
For the first time, I saw him clearly—not as the brilliant man I once loved, not as the villain the headlines wanted him to become, but as something smaller. A man who had borrowed power for so long that he mistook it for something born inside him.
“I can help with the investigation,” he said. “I can tell them Brooke pushed the transfers.”
“You can tell the truth to your attorney.”
“Claire—”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get my softness anymore.”
His mouth opened, then slowly closed again.
“I gave you fifteen years,” I continued. “My trust. My name. My company’s public face. And the moment you believed I was powerless, you chose to humiliate me in front of an entire room. That is the only truth I need.”
He stood there while rain slid down his face.
I disconnected the intercom.
