And, ironically, the high-end washer and dryer Lorraine refused to let anyone use because she considered handwashing some kind of moral virtue.
Every purchase had been made through one of my personal accounts.
We were there only for the possessions legally belonging to me.
Lorraine came running down the stairs wearing a robe.
“What is going on?”
Naomi handed her a document.
“We’re retrieving Ms. Monroe’s personal property.”
Lorraine stared at me.
“You brought a lawyer into my home?”
“Yes.”
“You little thief.”
The mover paused beside the television.
Naomi calmly said, “That television was purchased on April third using Ms. Monroe’s account. The serial number is attached to the inventory. Would you like to review it?”
Lorraine’s mouth closed.
Owen appeared at the top of the stairs.
His face looked exhausted.
“Cass.”
I ignored him.
He hurried down.
“Can we talk privately?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Anything you need to say can be said in front of my attorney.”
His eyes shifted toward Naomi.
Then toward the movers.
“What the hell is this?”
“My property.”
“You gave that stuff to us.”
“No. I furnished rooms I expected to use while visiting my husband’s family. Since there is no longer going to be a marriage, I’m removing what belongs to me.”
Raymond appeared from the kitchen.
He looked at the empty wall where the television had been.
“Who does she think she is?”
Lorraine snapped, “Apparently someone who enjoys humiliating decent people.”
Naomi opened another folder.
“Owen, you were served electronically at 8:04 this morning. A physical copy of the divorce petition is here.”
Owen went pale.
“You filed already?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve been married less than twenty-four hours.”
“And you managed to hit me in less than six.”
Raymond looked sharply at his son.
Lorraine jumped in.
“She’s twisting everything.”
I turned to Raymond.
“Your wife watched your son strike me and encouraged him.”
Raymond said nothing.
That silence told me everything I needed to know about him too.
Owen lowered his voice.
“Cass, you’re going to regret acting this impulsively.”
“I’m remarkably comfortable with my decision.”
“You’re going to end up with nothing.”
I almost smiled.
He still had no idea.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His mood changed instantly.
“I have to take this.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
Through the doorway, I heard him say:
“Yes, this is Owen Price… Monday at ten still works perfectly… Absolutely, we’re ready for Monroe Alder.”
I turned toward Naomi.
She knew.
Her eyebrow lifted slightly.
Neither of us said a word.
When Owen returned, he looked smug again.
“Big meeting tomorrow?”
Naomi asked casually.
Owen straightened.
“Investor meeting.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
He mistook my tone for bitterness.
“Once this closes, Price Dynamics will be valued north of forty million.”
Lorraine folded her arms triumphantly.
“You hear that? My son is going places.”
Owen looked straight at me.
“You could have been part of that life.”
I picked up my purse.
“Make sure you read everything before you sign tomorrow.”
He laughed.
“I know how business works, Cass.”
That was probably the funniest thing he said all weekend.
Monday, 10:00 a.m.
Price Dynamics arrived at Monroe Alder Group with an entire presentation team.
Owen wore a navy suit I had helped him choose.
His co-founder, Ben Hall, carried three laptops.
Their CFO, Keisha Morgan, had prepared updated projections.
I watched them enter the conference room through a private live feed from my office two floors above.
My investment partner, Adrian Cole, led the meeting.
Owen had met Adrian twice before.
He believed Adrian was the person with final authority.
For nearly ninety minutes, Owen pitched.
Market share.
