“I just told you that I know everything, Brit,” I say. “I know about your plan to steal my company or if that fails, to drain my bank account.”
I didn't think it was possible, but her face blanches to an even whiter shade than it was a moment ago. I can see the thoughts and emotions cycling through her as she looks at me, the disbelief in her eyes, as well as the anger that's smoldering within them.
As if a thought seems to suddenly occur to her, Brittany's eyes narrow and she looks at me with the same sort of contempt and disgust on her face that I feel for her.
“You had somebody investigating me,” she says – not a question.
I nod. “I did,” I reply. “I suspected you were having an affair. All the rest of the information about your would-be criminal enterprise was unexpected. I'm glad to have it though. What you two were in the process of doing is a very serious crime, Brit.”
“I cannot believe you had somebody spying on me,” she hisses. “You son of a bitch.”
I laugh out loud and shake my head. “That's rich,” I say. “You're the one cheating on me. You're the one trying to steal my company and all my money. And yet, somehow in your twisted brain, I'm the son of a bitch here? Priceless, Brittany. Priceless.”
I notice that patrons at a few of the tables surrounding us are looking our way, although they're pretending to not eavesdrop. Personally, I don't care. I brought Brittany here because I figured she'd make less of a scene in public and I'd rather avoid the drama – but if she does, she does. I'm not going to worry about it anymore. She's not my problem. Or at least, she won't be once she signs the decree.
Besides, having witnesses when this all goes down can only be a positive thing. Once we're done here, I'm leaving Seattle and I want to be sure that when I go, she's still intact, whole, and completely unharmed. Knowing what I now know about her, I can see her drumming up some abuse allegations just to squeeze more cash out of me. As long as I leave here, with her in unharmed in plain sight, I'm golden.
“I hate you,” she seethes. “I've hated you for a long time.”
I shrug. “That doesn't concern me anymore,” I say. “The only thing that concerns me right now is ending this sham of a marriage.”
“Happily,” she says. “But, you will abide by the terms of the prenuptial agreement.”
“Have you not listened to a word I've said?” I ask her. “I have evidence that you and lover boy were trying to orchestrate a crime. I've already spoken with my lawyer and she assures me that there is a very strong case to be had here. If you push me, Brit, I am going to nail you to the wall. I'm not going to hold back and both of you are going to wind up in prison. And not the cushy Club Fed kind of prison either. I don't know about your boy toy, but I've got a real strong feeling you wouldn't do well inside. I hear they don't take kindly to haughty, snooty bitches like you.”
“Go fuck yourself, Liam,” she sneers, drawing the attention of nearby patrons again.
I chuckle as I pull a document out of the folder and slide it across the table to her. “You say the sweetest things,” I say. “This is a decree, drawn up by my lawyer, in which you relinquish your rights to any of my money or my properties. Once our divorce is finalized, you'll go your way with what you brought into the marriage and I'll go my way with what I brought.”
She shakes her head. “You can't do this,” she says. “You know I don't have anything. You know I didn't grow up with money.”
“Not my problem, Brittany,” I say. “Maybe you should have thought about all of that before you tried to fuck me over. You, of all people, should know that I'm not somebody who takes kindly to being stabbed in the back. You, of all people, should know that if you take a shot at me, you better kill me because I will destroy you if you don't.”
Big, fat tears roll down her cheeks again and this time, I'm convinced they're real. They're not tears for the destruction of our marriage though. They're tears of self-pity. Tears of a woman who knows she rolled the dice and just crapped out. The tears of a woman who knows she has lost everything.
The tears she's shedding aren't because she's sad our marriage is over. She feels sorry for herself.
“Just to prove that I'm not a complete monster,” I say, “I'm giving you the condo downtown. I'm not going to force you to live on the street. I mean, I should, but I'm not going to. Sign the decree and the condo is yours. After that, your life is up to you.”
“Oh, gee, thanks,” she spits. “So fucking generous. After all the years I've given you –”
“Years I was apparently sharing with this Travis asshole,” I cut her off. “Don't sit there and pretend you don't deserve this. Don't sit there and act like you've been some noble, loving wife. You've enjoyed a lavish lifestyle at my expense and apparently, everything I tried to give you still wasn't enough. Travis is the only one I know you've been fucking. Who knows how many others there were or still are.”
“How dare you,” she sneers. “I'm not some cheap whore.”
“No, you have very expensive taste,” I say. “And you should be grateful I'm giving you the condo out of the goodness of my heart. So, sign the fucking paper and let's be done with this.”
“What in the hell am I supposed to do, Liam?” she hisses at me, very conscious of the people stealing glances at her.
I shrug. “What do I care?” I ask. “Maybe lover boy can start paying for your lavish lifestyle. That's for you to figure out. I'm done supporting you.”
Taking a pen out of my pocket, I set it down on top of the paperwork and look at her expectantly. She looks at the decree and then up at me, something akin to panic in her eyes. She really has no idea what she's going to do once she signs that paper and our marriage is over.
She had grown accustomed to a certain way of life. She was used to being pampered. Doted upon. Having her every whim and desire catered to. And I'm getting the impression that ol' Travis isn't going to be able to continue that way of life for her. It makes me want to laugh, but I remain respectfully silent.
“Sign the paper,” I say. “Or go to prison. The choice is yours.”
She picks up the pen but hesitates, looking at me. “Please, Liam –”
“Sign it,” I say, “or I'll have my lawyer get in touch with the authorities and turn over all the evidence I've collected. Either way, this free ride is over. Find somebody else to pay your way through life because I'm fucking done with it. I'm done with you.”
The tears rolling down her face unchecked, she signs the paper and slides it back to me, unable to meet my gaze. I slip it back into the folder, stand up and throw a wad of cash down on the table. Giving her one last look, I turn and walk out without another word. There's really nothing left to say between us.
As I step out into the cold and wet Seattle evening, I feel relieved, angry – and a little heartbroken. It's done. It's over. And as I have my car take me to the heliport, I lean back in the seat and let the complex and deep wave of emotions washing over me pull me under.
Chapter Five
Paige
Six Weeks Later...
“Please tell me you're not serious, Mrs. Brenton,” I say.
She shrugs and refills my coffee mug. “They made me a really nice offer,” she says. “I think I'd be a fool to turn it down.”
Mrs. Brenton is a sweet older lady. Her gray hair, as always, is pulled back into a long braid that hangs to the middle of her back. She's got a kind, soft face, and blue eyes that sparkle like the gemstone this town was named for. She's the grandmotherly type that always has a kind word, and I've been friends with her for a long, long time.