Dark circles beneath my eyes because Adrian’s schedule had become my insomnia.
I expected myself to cry.
Instead, the restroom door opened.
Vanessa walked in.
Of course.
I looked at her through the mirror.
“Leave.”
She locked the outer door.
That frightened me.
Not yet enough.
“Claire.”
“I said leave.”
“You need to understand something.”
“No.”
I turned.
“Whatever relationship you have with Adrian is now between me and my attorney.”
Her expression changed.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know enough.”
“You know what he tells you.”
I laughed.
“Apparently very little.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Adrian has been miserable for years.”
“He can tell me that himself.”
“He won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve built your entire identity around being his wife.”
That was an interesting accusation.
My mother had died eight years earlier and left me assets Adrian had never fully understood because he had never bothered asking.
I owned investment property.
