Chapter 3 - The Date Penelope Tried to Hide
I did not open Penelope’s envelope.
For a few minutes, I stood alone in the bedroom holding it, knowing the information inside could potentially change everything.
Opening another person’s medical documents would have crossed a line I was unwilling to cross.
Instead, I carried the envelope downstairs.
Penelope and Marcus were speaking quietly beside the front door.
“You dropped this,” I said.
The color left Penelope’s face.
Marcus took the envelope before she could reach for it.
“What is it?”
“Nothing important,” Penelope answered too quickly.
He examined the clinic’s return address.
“Is this from your doctor?”
“It’s an older report.”
Marcus started to open it.
Penelope grabbed his wrist.
“Not here.”
The desperation in her voice filled the hallway.
Marcus looked at her, then at me.
I walked away without saying a word.
That night, Marcus slept in the guest room. I heard him arguing with Penelope over the phone shortly after midnight.
“You told me the dates were confirmed.”
A pause followed.
“No, I’m not accusing you. I’m asking a question.”
Another pause.
“Then why won’t you show me the report?”
The next morning, he acted as though the conversation had never happened.
Penelope later explained that the report contained an early estimate that had been corrected during a later appointment. Marcus accepted her explanation because accepting it was easier than reconsidering every decision he had made.
He accelerated the divorce process.
His attorney, Calvin Price, sent me a proposed agreement that same week.
Marcus wanted to keep Hale Meridian, his investment accounts, two luxury cars and the vacation property in Aspen. In exchange, he would waive any potential interest in my family trust, Victory Air and the mansion.
The offer was so favorable to me that my attorney, Laura Bennett, read it twice.
“Does he know what Victory Air is worth?” she asked.
“No.”
“And you don’t want to tell him?”
“He has access to financial advisers. He could investigate it himself.”
Laura leaned back in her chair.
“You’re not required to rescue him from his own arrogance.”
Marcus also requested joint custody, but his proposed schedule placed the children with me during school weeks and with him on alternating weekends.
He had written an agreement that allowed him to call himself an equal parent while leaving nearly all daily responsibilities to me.
I accepted the schedule on one condition: neither parent could introduce the children to a new partner as a permanent parental figure for six months.
Marcus objected.
“Penelope is carrying their sibling.”
“Possibly.”
His expression hardened.
“You need to stop saying that.”
“Then ask for a prenatal paternity test.”
“She doesn’t want unnecessary medical procedures.”
“Modern testing can often be performed with a blood sample from the mother.”
Marcus stared at me.
He clearly had not known that.
For a moment, doubt appeared in his eyes.
Then his phone rang.
Penelope’s name appeared on the screen.
He answered immediately and left the room.
That was how our marriage ended—not with a dramatic confession, but with Marcus repeatedly walking away from every difficult truth.
While he was gone, I studied the proposed agreement.
At the bottom of the final page was a clause transferring all interest, present or future, in Victory Air and its related entities to me.
May you like
Marcus had signed beside it without hesitation.
I signed too.
