His eyes were full of disappointment.
"Let's get a divorce."
My heart lurched.
Damn it. He beat me to it.
I didn't hesitate. I nodded.
"Fine."
The speed of my answer caught him off guard. He stared at me, visibly stunned.
"Noah stays with me. I'll have a lawyer split everything fifty-fifty. You won't get shortchanged."
I pulled out my phone and texted the divorce attorney I knew on the spot.
His eyes went wide with disbelief.
"Even now, it's still about money? Caroline, do you even have a heart? Did our marriage mean nothing to you? Almost ten years, and this is what I get?"
Ten years didn't even begin to cover it.
Counting my past life, my marriage to Corey Vance had spanned close to seventy or eighty years.
And in all those decades, I was never as happy as the world assumed.
After he quit the music scene, he used his "bad moods" as an excuse and never shared a bed with me again.
She'd locked herself away in that room for years, burying herself in housework and trivial chores, as if she were hiding from life itself.
Then came the diagnosis. A serious illness, and at her age, there was no cure.
When the doctor delivered the news, Corey actually looked relieved.