Chapter 2: Three Words at the Top of the Page
The letter started with three words.
*I am sorry.*
Not for the divorce.
Not for the arguments.
Not for any of the things I had spent years quietly resenting.
He was sorry for something I hadn't even known to be angry about.
The folder was full of spreadsheets.
Financial records going back to the first year of his business.
Numbers I had never seen before.
And as I sat there reading, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Because the records showed something that changed everything I thought I knew about our divorce.
During the final two years of our marriage, while I was home with the kids and he was "building the business," the company had already been profitable.
Very profitable.
He had known.
His accountant had known.
And neither of them had told me.
When we negotiated the settlement, I had accepted far less than I was owed — because I had been shown numbers that weren't real.
I set the papers down.
Then my phone rang.
It was Caroline.
"I know you've read it by now," she said.
Her voice was different this time.
Quieter.
Almost careful.
"Yes."
May you like
"There's something else you need to know." She paused.
"Something Daniel didn't put in that box."
