“Ashley,” I said, “did you marry me because you believed I’d inherit Bennett Freight?”
She looked startled.
“No.”
“Then why is so much of what you’re angry about connected to money?”
She began crying.
“Because I thought we were going to have this incredible life, Nathan. I thought your family would welcome me into it.”
“My mother did welcome you.”
“She kept telling me no!”
“She told you no when you asked for a three-million-dollar house, private corporate facilities, and access to a trust. Those aren’t ordinary wedding presents.”
Ashley covered her face.
I let her cry.
Then I asked the question I’d been avoiding.
“If Mom were a retired truck driver with no money, would you still want her at our dinner table?”
Ashley lowered her hands.
She didn’t answer.
And that silence stayed with me long after I left the apartment.
I didn’t return to the apartment that night.
I stayed in my old bedroom at Mom’s house, staring at the ceiling while the events of the previous forty-eight hours replayed in my head.
By morning, I’d received six messages from Ashley.
The first accused me of betraying her.
The second said Melissa thought I’d humiliated her by taking the ring.
The third asked whether Rachel had shown me any other documents.
Then came a different message.
I love you, Nathan. I never wanted any of this to happen.
I believed she loved me.
That was part of what made everything so difficult.
We’d met at a charity event two years earlier. Ashley was funny, intelligent, and ambitious. She worked in commercial marketing and had built a respectable career before we met.
She remembered the names of restaurant servers.
She volunteered at an animal rescue.
She once drove four hours to help a friend move after a breakup.
