Chapter 6 - The Affair Was Fourteen Months Old
My divorce lawyer, Rachel Sloan, entered the story on Tuesday.
Thirty-eight.
Compact.
Direct.
She specialized in complex divorce involving business ownership.
I had referred clients to her before.
Now I sat across from her.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“My company investigates risk.”
“You design offices.”
“We also consult on workplace risk through partners.”
“You still aren’t clairvoyant.”
“I should have known.”
Rachel pushed tissue box away from me rather than toward me.
I liked her immediately.
“Knowing afterward is not same as being able to know before.”
Then:
“What do you want?”
“Divorce.”
“Custody?”
“Primary, but I am not trying to erase Glen from Ariel’s life unless evidence shows he is unsafe.”
“Good.”
“Company?”
“Northstar is premarital. I founded it six years before marriage.”
“Any equity granted to Glen?”
“No.”
“Profit-sharing?”
“Annual bonus.”
“House?”
“Bought during marriage. Joint title.”
“Debts?”
“Mortgage. Cars. Normal.”
“Prenup?”
“No.”
Texas community-property rules would require careful tracing.
Northstar’s premarital value remained separate, but community could have claims based on compensation or contributions depending facts.
We would not simplify.
Then affair.
Through divorce discovery and Northstar’s permissible corporate review, timeline emerged.
First clearly romantic messages between Glen and Clara were fourteen months old.
A client dinner.
Clara handled event.
Glen stayed after.
Then:
GLEN:
Last night was a mistake.
CLARA:
Then why are you thinking about it?
GLEN:
I am.
Three weeks later:
CLARA:
Richard is in Houston Thursday.
GLEN:
Nat has late site visit.
I stopped reading.
Rachel said:
“You don’t have to read every message.”
“I do.”
“No.”
I looked up.
“You need enough evidence for legal decisions, not emotional self-harm.”
I hated that she was right.
The forensic summary established:
Affair at least fourteen months.
Regular meetings.
Hotel stays.
A short-term apartment lease in Clara’s company name.
Company phone used as secret channel after Glen told me he lost it.
Crescent House invoices occasionally referenced the same apartment payments.
Then pregnancy messages.
Clara:
Test is positive.
Glen:
Are you sure?
Clara:
Yes.
Glen:
Richard?
Clara:
Timing works for either.
Glen:
Jesus.
Later:
Glen:
Are you going to tell him?
Clara:
Not unless we know.
Then three weeks later:
Clara:
He’s thrilled. Don’t ruin this.
Glen:
You can’t let him think it’s his forever.
Clara:
Why not until we know?
Glen:
Because it might be mine.
Then:
Clara:
If it’s yours, nothing changes right now.
The child had not been genetically tested prenatally.
So no one knew with certainty.
But both knew possibility.
And Clara had already asked my father to transfer millions for the unborn baby.
Rachel closed folder.
“Do you need five minutes?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
I stared at table.
Fourteen months.
Ariel was three.
Glen had kissed me goodnight hundreds of times during those fourteen months.
Taken family photographs.
Planned our anniversary.
Held my hand at my mother’s memorial service.
And slept with my stepmother.
May you like
The betrayal was so absurd that my brain kept trying to reject it as bad fiction.
Reality did not care.
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