Chapter 8 - The Cornered Rat
The betrayal broke whatever fight Julian had left. During a recess, he cornered me in the hallway, ignoring the sharp warning from my private security guard.
“Clara, please,” he begged, his voice trembling, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was arrogant. I was stupid. But I’m Arthur’s father. You can’t send me to federal prison. Please, just take the house. Take everything. Just let me walk away.”
I looked at the man I had once loved. I thought about the nights I spent crying alone in our massive bed. I thought about the agonizing pain of labor, gripping a hospital bedrail with no one to hold my hand, while he drank champagne in the Caribbean.
“You did walk away, Julian,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “You walked away when I was 39 weeks pregnant. You told me to call an ambulance. You told me to stop being dramatic.”
“I didn't mean it!” he sobbed, falling to his knees in the middle of the courthouse hallway. “Please!”
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“I am taking the house,” I whispered, leaning down so only he could hear me. “I am taking the accounts. I am taking my son. You wanted me to suffer so I would learn respect. Well, Julian. Now it’s your turn to learn.”
I stood back up, adjusted my blazer, and walked back into the deposition room without looking back.
