It was spotless in that pristine, expensive way. Stainless steel appliances. Granite countertops. A candle by the sink that smelled like sugar cookies and money. The window above the faucet looked out onto a dark backyard with a swing set and a patio lit by string lights.
Jessica leaned against the counter, arms crossed tight over her chest, as if holding herself together.
“Thank you,” she said immediately. “For… letting me do that. For not… destroying us.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I said.
She nodded quickly. “I know. You did it for Aiden and Emma.”
“And for me,” I added. “Foreclosing would’ve been satisfying for a minute. But then what? I’d own a house I don’t want to live in and a family permanently split.”
Jessica’s mouth tightened. “You’re giving us a chance we don’t deserve.”
“I’m giving your children stability,” I corrected. “And I’m giving you consequences you can actually carry.”
She blinked at that. “Consequences.”
“Higher payment. No wiggle room,” I said. “And the truth. In public.”
Jessica nodded, swallowing.
“I meant what I said,” she whispered. “About being jealous. About hating that I needed you. I… I’m going to therapy.”