I didn't know people like this existed. People whose sense of right and wrong was so thoroughly, spectacularly shattered. People who could invoke a dead man's name to justify the betrayal of a living woman and her unborn child, and do it with steady voices and clear eyes, as though the world itself had rearranged to accommodate their version of events.
And somehow, they were the ones I'd ended up with. The Don I'd built from nothing and the widow who'd slithered into the space I'd left unguarded. Standing shoulder to shoulder in the half-light of my own corridor, wearing matching expressions of mild inconvenience, as if I were the intruder. As if I were the problem that needed to be managed.
In that moment, the thought of divorce erupted in my mind like a flare.