"Julian," Ivor spoke up, his tone measured and righteous, "last night, you went too far. Bill grew up under our watch. He and Louise are naturally close. You had no right to attack someone without hearing them out first. That was wrong."
I stared at his self-assured face and laughed—a cold, hollow sound.
"And then what?"
"And then what?"
Ann bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"You get on your knees and apologize. You kowtow until Bill and Louise forgive you. Only then do you get to stand back up."
She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
In the past, the Sullivans had never hesitated to use my love for Louise as leverage. And for five years, I'd swallowed my pride every single time to keep the peace.
Ann was certain—absolutely certain—that I'd fold again, the way I always did.
Not this time.
"Are you finished?"
The room went still.
"Good. Because now it's my turn."
I locked eyes with Louise.
"Louise, let's get a divorce."
I slapped the agreement—the one my lawyer had drafted through the night—onto the bed in front of her.
Louise froze. The sobbing cut off mid-breath.