“By tomorrow morning, the executor will receive the filing.”

I stood up, feeling a strange mix of relief and anticipation.

“Thank you, Jerome,” I said.

“Just stay calm, Avery,” he advised.

“Don’t confront him yet.”

“Let him think he’s won.”

I left the office and walked back out into the cool rain.

I spent the afternoon at my desk at work, barely able to focus on my spreadsheets.

Every hour, I checked the joint account online.

The charges kept mounting.

First class plane tickets to Paris for two.

A deposit on a penthouse rental downtown.

Kayla was clearly guiding his hand, picking out everything she had ever wanted.

They were building a castle on a foundation of sand.

I drove home in the dark, the suburban streets quiet and empty.

I sat in my dark living room, waiting.

The hours crawled by.

At ten in the evening, my phone rang.

It wasn’t Rachel, and it wasn’t Jerome.

It was Scott.

I let it ring three times before I answered.

“Hello, Scott,” I said, keeping my voice flat and tired.

“Avery, we need to talk about the divorce terms,” he said.