Chapter 17 - THE DIVORCE
Willow chose the Peninsula for the signing.
Helena thought she was joking.
“You want to go back there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want one bad night owning a building.”
The divorce conference took place eleven floors below the ballroom.
Lucas arrived with one attorney.
Willow with Evelyn.
The financial terms were simpler than expected.
Willow wanted none of Lucas’s personal assets.
Lucas would relinquish all claims against the Donovan trust.
He would accept responsibility for forged documents and cooperate in related proceedings.
The marriage would end.
Lucas signed first.
His hand trembled slightly.
Then he pushed the documents toward Willow.
She looked at the signature.
Five years.
It looked so ordinary.
She signed.
Willow Donovan.
Not Sterling.
The tiny downward stroke through the final W remained.
Lucas noticed.
“My mother told me about that.”
Willow looked up.
“What?”
“The signature.”
“No.”
“My mother.”
She touched the page.
“She taught me.”
Lucas nodded.
Silence.
Then,
“Was any of it good?”
Willow was surprised.
“What?”
“Our marriage.”
He looked terrified of the answer.
She thought carefully.
“Yes.”
Lucas closed his eyes.
“That somehow hurts more.”
“It should.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t want to erase the good.”
Willow said.
“I also won’t let the good erase the harm.”
Lucas nodded.
“I understand.”
“No.”
“You’re beginning to.”
He accepted that.
At the door, he stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
Willow did not say, I forgive you.
She did not owe him those words.
Instead,
“I hope one day you become the kind of man who understands exactly what you’re apologizing for.”
Lucas swallowed.
“I hope so too.”
He left.
Willow remained seated.
Evelyn closed the file.
“How do you feel?”
Willow looked at the wedding ring still on her hand.
She removed it.
Placed it on the table.
“Quiet.”
“Good quiet?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She stood.
Walked upstairs alone.
The anniversary ballroom was empty.
Hotel staff were preparing it for another event.
No orchids.
No Sterling banner.
No six hundred guests.
Willow stepped onto the terrace.
Chicago stretched beneath her.
She remembered her father’s voice.
Look at the lights.
Count them until I get there.
Willow smiled.
May you like
She did not count.
She did not need to.
