Chapter 3 - THE RING ON THE PALM
Three days later, I checked myself out against doctor's orders.
I didn't return to the Moretti estate in Lake Forest.
I took a cab straight to my parents’ old house on the north side.
It was dusty, quiet, and entirely mine.
I spent the afternoon cleaning the kitchen table.
At midnight, headlights cut across the living room window.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the front porch.
The deadbolt turned.
Adrian walked into the hallway, his coat collar turned up against the rain.
“Come home,” he ordered, his voice echoing in the empty room.
I stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning on a wooden cane.
“Are you asking as my husband or ordering me as a boss?”
His jaw clenched until the muscles ticked.
“I came to bring my wife home.”
I raised my left hand.
Slowly, deliberately, I slid my diamond wedding ring off my finger.
His eyes dropped to my palm.
The silver band caught the dim overhead light.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a sudden edge of panic in his voice.
I walked forward and placed the ring directly into his open palm.
“I’m calling an attorney tomorrow.”
His face lost all color.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We’re not getting divorced, Claire.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
I took one step back.
Adrian froze.
In six years of marriage, I had never stepped away from him.
“I’m doing exactly what you did,” I said, my voice steady.
“What?”
“Choosing myself first.”
Then I closed the solid oak door in his face.
May you like
I locked every bolt.
For the first time in my life, I didn't care what happened on the other side.
