After we got married, Briar and I always slept in separate rooms. When I asked to share a room, he refused: “No, Marceline. Chloe would be upset. If it weren't for this marriage, she and I wouldn't be apart.” Chloe was his first love.
I came to terms with it—this marriage had always been a transaction. My family needed cash to solve a liquidity crisis; his company needed our connections for a lawsuit. Once it was over, we were supposed to walk away.
For the next three years, Chloe was on his arm at every public event—Thanksgiving, his company gala, even my own mother's birthday. Everyone could see who he was really with.
Now both families' problems were resolved. It was time for me to leave.
