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Chapter 15
Running into Erika on top of the business meeting has been the beginning of the end of our marriage. Foster could deny his feelings for his former love, but he changed that night. He isn’t as affectionate, distancing himself from me. Sex isn’t like it was before he saw her. It even trickles down to maybe twice a week, and I am generous in my estimates.
I want it to go back to where we were on our second honeymoon—I want to feel wanted, but that is gone from our relationship. Foster goes back to treating me like a hired hand, and weeks later, as the summer rolls on, I can’t take it anymore.
He is in his office after having a sandwich for dinner. My decision made, I push his door open, and the creak of the hinge alerts him to my presence.
“What do you want, Paige? I have a ton of work to finish,” he says dismissively.
I twist a few strands of hair, rubbing them between my fingers as I fix my eyes on the floor. “This won’t take long. I’m leaving. You don’t have time for me.”
What I said must have gotten Foster's attention because he jumps up and pounds his hand on the desk. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m leaving you,” I respond emptily. “I’m finished with this marriage. I didn’t ask for this.”
He gnashes his teeth. “You certainly did,” he grits out. “I have a contract that says so.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I sniffle. “The contract was forgotten once you told me you loved me.”
“I do love you,” he insists.
Tears leak down my face and I wipe at them, but as Foster begin to round his desk, I shout, “No! Don’t come near me! I don’t want you to sweet talk me into staying. Give me a little credit for having some brains.”
Foster freezes to his spot. “I give you plenty of credit. You’re my intelligent, beautiful wife. I love you.”
“Don’t use words you don’t believe. The only thing you love is Erika and even that you fucked up! You can’t love a person or a being when you love business more. Everything else is secondary. I won’t allow you to twist my heart!”
He clenches his jaw to where I can see his neck muscle bulging. “Then get the fuck out of my home,” he spits. “Forget your job, and I’ll see you in court for breach of contract. Oh, and there’s the little issue of the money I paid to you and what I also paid off for you. You’ll be returning that to me.”
“You go straight to hell!” I counter. “I’m sure your father would love to hear what I have to say.”
Foster takes a few shaky steps toward me, his face growing beet red. “You will keep your mouth shut,” he seethes. “We have one more month before a year is up.”
“I already breached the contract. The deal is off.”
Foster tries to close the distance between us, but I back out of the room. He catches up to me in the hallway, grabbing my upper arm and squeezing so hard, I wince.
“You think you can negotiate with me?!” he rages.
“I learned from the best! Now let me go!” I yank my arm from his grasp as tears pour down my face. Foster stays behind as I run to our bedroom. I slam the door, click the lock, then sink to the floor and sob until I can’t breathe.
The sound of the doorknob wiggling makes me hiccup in worry, and the door doesn’t give way, I hear a knock.
“Paige, please. Let me in.” Foster’s voice is soft, his anger gone, but I don’t want to have any contact with him. He continues, but I ignore him and instead crawl to our bed and drag myself on top of the mattress. Curling into a ball, I cry myself to sleep.
I wake in the early hours of the morning before dawn, head aching, and face tight from my tears. The penthouse is quiet, and I wonder where Foster slept. It surprises me that he didn’t have a key to this room as he did with the master bath, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing he could say would convince me that our marriage has a chance. The man I knew on our honeymoon is gone. I no longer have the strength to put up with it anymore. I just want my freedom.
I wince as I flip on the light in the bathroom. My hair was sticking out every which way, and I try to brush it straight, but I fail, so I put it up in a ponytail. I avoided staring at my face, concentrating instead on my task, and when I finally inspect myself, my eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I fill the sink basin with water before thrusting my face into the cold, making me shudder.
There are so many choices I need to make. Should I stay at Zane’s apartment or find my own? I have two hundred and fifty thousand reasons in the bank to rent my own place. I’m certain Foster was bluffing when he said he would sue me for breach of contract. Regardless of his money, a court case would be public record, meaning the details have a possibility of being leaked. We have one more month until our anniversary, and Foster was free of his father’s loan.
I am leaving the bathroom when Foster knocks on the bedroom door. “Paige, I need a suit for work. I’m coming in.”
I wait for the sound of the lock. Foster slowly pushes the door open, and he looks as bad as I do. Wrinkles are etched on his face that hadn’t been there the day before. His face is pale and dark circles mar the skin under his eyes. Part of me is satisfied to see how this is affecting him. It makes me feel a bit better, but not much.
“Hi,” he says tiredly.
“Hello.”
