He’d know soon enough, when the credit card bill came. “Let’s not waste precious time on you denying everything, Scott. There are pictures, receipts, witnesses, tons of stuff. We have to talk about how to face the future. We have kids. We have assets. I’m a lawyer and I know only too well, once lawyers get involved, we’ll be sucked dry. You clearly don’t want to be married to me anymore. And I can’t be married to a man who cheats. So how do we resolve this?”
Scott stared at her for a long time, not speaking. His lips were as thin as a wire; his temples pulsed. His eyes narrowed. He sat there frozen, looking at her with silent hatred. At that moment more than any of the other moments before, she realized she didn’t know him at all. At. All.
“This is all your fault,” he finally said.
* * *
Justine couldn’t cry. She wanted to release the valve, open the dam, scream out the pain of betrayal and rage. She’d been used! Every nickel in their portfolio and retirement accounts had been earned by her. The house they lived in—she qualified for and paid the mortgage.
She wasn’t sure when it happened, but the ability to break down and cry had been trained out of her years ago. It was a feature of practicing law. While she might not be putting away hardened criminals, she was responsible for keeping the legal affairs of a corporation in order, protecting the jobs of hundreds of employees. Still, her job wasn’t always dry and unemotional. There were times she felt the weight and pressure of the future of her company at stake, awaiting an answer from the Securities Exchange for example, and getting the wrong answer and knowing there would be grave disappointment, possible monetary losses, perhaps bankruptcy or in an extreme case, a hostile takeover. She held the legal aspect of the company in her hands, and of course she couldn’t cry about it, no matter how scared or disappointed she felt.
Scott had never been sympathetic to the pressure she felt.
But when was the last time she cried over her husband or marriage? It was probably before the girls were born. In their attempts to have a family, there had been a couple of miscarriages—those brought her to her knees. And she was sure she cried tears of joy when Amber and Olivia were born...
Oh God, her daughters! They would be so devastated by this news. They adored their father, and while she was certain she had their love as well, they were closer to Scott. After all, he was the one available to seek out for permission, to go to for favors, to call if they needed a ride or wanted to borrow the car.
It was Scott who played with them. He took them to watch games—football and hockey were their favorite sporting events. Scott taught them to play tennis and golf. They often went biking or hiking together, most of the time leaving Justine behind if it was her day to stay with her mother or if she had work to do.
The girls needed their father. But there was no way she was leaving her home! They would be heartbroken to think of their father not being there. Especially Olivia. Her girls looked very much alike with their long, thick brown hair and dark eyes, but were as different as night and day. Amber was smart and strong and fiercely independent. Now that she thought about it, Justine realized it was rare for Amber to cry, as well. But Olivia was another story. She was sensitive and emotional and would probably fall apart at the thought of her daddy not being at her beck and call.
She would have to share her daughters with their father; she would have to take over as the primary parent. She would have to do all of the chores Scott routinely accomplished. Everything she’d become used to would change.
* * *
Right after Scott told her everything was her fault, he delivered a litany of complaints about her character. She worked all the time and didn’t take adequate care of the family. He was never sure he could count on her—in her business something was always coming up