I waited.
“At dinner.”
“Okay.”
“In front of Damon’s investors.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
Her eyes widened.
“Uncomfortable?”
“It was humiliating.”
“Why would you cancel my card?”
“You moved out.”
“We are still married.”
“You told me not to call.”
“That does not mean you cut me off financially.”
“I did not touch your accounts.”
“You canceled the Amex.”
“It was a supplemental account attached to me.”
“The fuel card too.”
“Harborline card.”
“And the Tahoe.”
“Harborline vehicle.”
“You cannot do this.”
I kept my voice flat.
“I already did.”
Erica started crying.
“I needed space.”
“You moved into another man’s condo.”
“Guest room.”
I looked at her.
“That is not space, Erica.”
“That is a forwarding address.”
Her tears stopped.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
“Of course you are.”
“You’ve always resented me.”
“That’s revisionist.”
“I was confused.”
“Monique said…”
I held up one hand.
“Monique is not married to me.”
“She helped me see how controlling you are.”
“I paid for your company.”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
“No.”
“I never told you not to work.”
“Not to earn.”
“Not to leave.”
“You left.”
“What I stopped doing was funding a lifestyle after you moved into another man’s home.”
Her face hardened.
“Half of everything is mine.”
“That is something lawyers can discuss.”
“You think your little boat company scares me?”
“No.”
“My attorney will destroy you.”
“That sounds expensive.”
Footsteps came up the walkway.
Erica turned.
The process server approached.
“Erica Callahan?”
She looked back at me.
Then at him.
“Yes?”
He handed her the documents.
“You’ve been served.”
She stared at the papers.
Then at me.
“You filed?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The morning after you left.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can.”
Something finally changed in her expression.
Not anger.
Shock.
She had expected me to protest her departure.
Beg.
Negotiate.
Wait.
Remain emotionally and financially available while she decided whether Damon’s condo offered a better future.
Instead, I treated her departure as a decision.
She screamed.
Selfish.
Controlling.
Cheap.
Abusive.
Jealous.
Emotionally primitive.
That last one was creative.
Then she kicked one of the large ceramic planters beside the door.
She hurt her foot.
Grabbed the railing.
And somehow blamed me for placing it there.
The camera recorded everything.
Ray watched the footage the next day.