The martyred wife, swallowing her pride for her family. Her performance painted me as the tyrant. Around the room, guests murmured in sympathy, casting judgmental glances my way.
In the shadows, Ethan's smug smirk vanished.
"Anything?" I repeated.
I looked past her, locking eyes with him. A slow smile curved my lips.
"Fine. We don't have to divorce."
Hope sparked in Claire's eyes.
"Fire him. Right now. Guarantee you'll never contact Ethan Matthews again. Do that, and the papers disappear."
The color drained from her face.
"You're being unreasonable," she hissed. "You've always been paranoid about Ethan. You can't stand that he's capable."
"I know exactly how capable he is." My tone cut like a scalpel. "I know your loyal assistant helps you with work. I also know he helps with your... personal needs. Relieves your stress. Handles your urgent problems."
I stepped closer, looming over her. "And as repayment, you treated him to a drink. Again and again."
I shifted my gaze between them, letting the implication hang.
I had intended to end this quietly. Leave them a shred of dignity. But Claire refused to let go, insisted on playing the victim.
If she didn't want dignity, I wouldn't force it on her.