Part 2: She took out her phone and played a video.
Michael was younger in it, drunk at some party, surrounded by laughing college friends.
“One hundred grand says I can marry the poorest girl on campus and last three years,” he said, raising a beer. “Easy money.”
Someone off camera shouted, “What if she falls in love with you?”
Michael laughed.
“I’ll close my eyes and pretend she’s someone else.”
The laughter in that video broke something in me that pain had not reached.
Every I love you. Every anniversary dinner I cooked myself because he forgot. Every time I defended him to Rebecca. Every night I lay awake beside the cold space where my husband should have been.
A bet.
Dr. Morrison’s face had gone pale. “This is abuse. I’m calling security.”
Jonathan looked at her with mild amusement. “Doctor, my family donated the east wing of this hospital. Call anyone you like.”
What he did not know was that the name Harrington above the hospital entrance had nothing to do with him.
Victoria shoved divorce papers into my shaking hands.
“Sign these tonight,” she said, “or by morning, CPS takes Grace.”
“I just had surgery,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Sign,” Jonathan said.
My hand shook so hard the pen scratched across the page.
Alexis bent down and whispered, “Did you really think someone like you could keep a Sterling?”