“I can’t leave work,” he said. “The doctors have it handled.”
“It’s our son,” she whispered.
“I’m securing our future,” he replied.
That night, Camille came home to divorce papers on the kitchen table.
Irreconcilable differences.
Custody terms.
Asset division.
Like dissolving a business partnership.
The next morning, at 6:47 a.m., her phone rang.
“Miss Brooks,” said Director Margaret Lawson from the U.S. Department of Transportation, “Brooks Infrastructure Group has been awarded the I-85 expansion project. Seven hundred fifty million dollars.”
Camille nearly dropped the bottle she was warming.
Her small company had just been handed a contract that could change everything.
Ryan returned that evening, composed and distant.
“Divorce is filed,” he said.
“I won the I-85 contract,” Camille replied calmly.
His face drained of color. “What?”
“Seven hundred fifty million.”
He recovered quickly. “Money doesn’t fix everything.”
“It fixes medicine and rent,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t choose this life,” Ryan snapped. “I didn’t choose three medically fragile kids.”
Camille felt something inside her shift permanently.
“Get out,” she said.
He left.
The months that followed felt like survival during an earthquake.