“What did you never tell me?”
Max hesitated.
“I found something after you moved out.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
I frowned.
“From whom?”
“Your attorney.”
My stomach dropped.
“My attorney?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“It was about the house.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
“What about the house?”
“When we divided everything, I told you I had no intention of keeping it.”
“You didn't.”
“I changed my mind.”
I closed my eyes.
“You kept the house.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't know why.”
I waited.
“I had an offer from a developer.”
My eyes opened.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To pay off the remaining debt and leave me with a substantial amount.”
I felt cold.
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was angry.”
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
“You were angry, so you lied about our biggest asset?”
“I thought you would fight me.”
“You wanted me to fight you?”
“No.”
“Then what did you want?”
“I don't know.”
His voice cracked.
“I wanted to hurt you.”
The honesty was brutal.
I turned away from the window.
“You could have told me.”
“I know.”
“Why now?”
“Because Claire found the letter.”
I froze.
“What letter?”
“The one from your attorney. The one explaining that you were entitled to a larger share if the property was sold.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“You kept that from me.”
“Yes.”
“How much did I lose?”
He gave me the amount.
I sat down.
It was more than I had imagined.
Enough to have changed the first years after the divorce.
Enough to have made school expenses easier.
Enough to have allowed me to stop worrying every month.
“You stole from me.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't steal money.”
My voice became quieter.
“You stole years.”
He said nothing.
I ended the call.
For several minutes, I simply sat there.
Then I called my attorney.
She answered quickly.
“Veronica?”
“Did Max ever tell you he had received an offer for the house?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“Did you tell him I was entitled to a portion?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell me?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
The anger came slowly.
Not explosive.
Deep.
Old.
I thought about the first year after the divorce.
The cheap apartment.
The secondhand furniture.
The nights I had calculated grocery money.
The days I had wondered whether I could afford school supplies.
All those years, I had believed I was struggling because divorce was expensive.
Now I understood.
I had been struggling because Max had deliberately allowed me to.
My attorney said, “There may still be options.”
“Even now?”
“Yes.”
“I want to know everything.”
“We'll review the documents.”
I hung up.
Then I called Edward.
He answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“Can you talk?”
His voice changed.
“Of course.”
I told him.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, “Do you want advice?”
“Yes.”
“Don't call Max again today.”
I almost smiled.
“That's your advice?”
“It's the first part.”
“What is the second?”
“Get the documents. Let your attorney handle it. Don't let him turn this into another emotional argument.”
“I don't want revenge.”
“I know.”
“I just want what was mine.”
“Then get it.”
His certainty steadied me.
That afternoon, I met my attorney.
The documents were worse than I expected.
There had been an appraisal.
There had been correspondence.
There had been a written offer.
And there had been a clause in our settlement that Max had failed to disclose.
It did not guarantee I would receive the entire amount.
But it gave me a strong claim.
My attorney looked at me.
“You were entitled to know.”
I nodded.
“What happens now?”
“We send a formal demand.”
I signed the paperwork.
For the first time, I didn't feel powerless.
I felt clear.
That evening, Max arrived at my house.
I opened the door but didn't invite him in.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I know.”
“Why are you here?”
“To apologize.”
“You already did.”
“I need to do it properly.”
I stared at him.
“You lied about the house.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was struggling.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was raising the girls.”
“Yes.”
“And you still kept the information from me.”
His eyes filled with regret.
“I was angry.”
“Anger doesn't explain everything.”
“No.”
“It explains nothing.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I expected myself to shout.
Instead, I felt exhausted.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why come?”
“Because I don't want to become the man I was.”
I almost laughed.
“You already became him.”
He flinched.
“I know.”
Silence settled between us.
Then he said, “Claire left.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“This morning.”
I felt no satisfaction.
“I'm sorry.”
He looked surprised.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever happened between you two, I don't want anyone to go through what I went through.”
He looked down.
“She said she couldn't marry someone who needed to make another person feel small in order to feel big.”
I swallowed.
“That sounds like Claire.”
“She also said something else.”
“What?”
“She said Edward looked at you like you were the only person in the room.”
I didn't know how to respond.
Max gave a tired smile.
“I hated him for that.”
“I know.”
“But I don't anymore.”
He stepped backward.
“I think I finally understand why.”
I waited.
“You never needed someone to rescue you.”
He looked at me.
“You needed someone who wouldn't keep trying to convince you that you needed rescuing.”
Then he left.
I closed the door.
A minute later, my phone buzzed.
It was Edward.
Dinner tomorrow?
I smiled.
Yes.
And this time, I didn't wonder whether it was pretend.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Truth About the House Was Only the Beginning, Because the Documents Exposed a Decision Max Had Made Before Our Marriage Ended
The Invitation Came With a Cruel Plus-One, and I Realized My Ex-Husband Still Wanted One Last Chance to Humiliate Me
Part 7 of 12
