Chapter 3: The Art of Letting Go

Evelyn's POV

The key slides into the lock. I push open the door. Every light in the living room is on. Marcus sits on the couch, jacket off, tie loose, whiskey in hand. He shouldn't be home this early.

"Where were you? I called you three times."

I set down my bag.

"Just at Rachel's. Phone was on silent."

He crosses the room fast. Pulls me in tight. Too tight.

"I was worried. You've been different lately."

I push back enough to meet his eyes.

"Different? I'm right here."

"You know what I mean. These past few days."

You have no idea how far away I already am. Three days ago, I was your wife. Now I'm just waiting to leave.

I lean into his chest. Smell the alcohol mixed with perfume. Not mine.

"Sorry." His voice drops. "I've been working too much. Let me make it up to you."

"You don't need to apologize."

But you do. For everything.

Mrs. Thompson made dinner. Candlelight. Wine. Marcus changed his shirt, playing the devoted husband. I sit across from him, cutting my steak.

I set down my knife.

"Rachel's starting a women's tech fund. I want in."

He looks up. Surprised, then smiles.

"That's great. You're getting back out there. How much?"

"Half a million."

Brief silence. He doesn't even blink.

"I'll transfer it today. Whatever you need, babe."

"You're not gonna ask what the fund does?"

He reaches across the table for my hand.

"I trust you. What's mine is yours. I'm just happy you're moving forward again."

What's mine is yours. Everything you have, I helped build. And you've been spending it on a twenty-two-year-old while I was bleeding in our bed.

I smile. Squeeze his hand. He pulls out his phone, transfers the money right there.

"Done. Should hit your account by morning."

He kisses my knuckles.

"I'm proud of you, Evelyn. This is the woman I fell for. Strong. Ambitious."

"Thanks. It means a lot."

It does. You just paid for my freedom.

Morning light fills the kitchen. I make coffee, check my phone. The transfer cleared. Five hundred thousand dollars sitting there.

I open my laptop at the table. Type fast.

Columbia University Environmental Defense Fund.

Donation recipient: Dr. James Whitmore, Project Director.

Amount: $500,000.

Anonymous: Yes.

James. Five years ago you said if I ever needed anything, you'd be there. I didn't believe you then. I was so sure Marcus was everything. God, I was stupid.

Transfer complete. Screenshot saved. Browsing history deleted.

Another email loads. Torres sent me a contact.

"Mrs. Kane, as promised. Gloria Steinberg's private line. She's expecting your call. Mention my name. Best of luck."

I pull out the burner phone from yesterday. Text the number.

"This is Evelyn Kane. Michael Torres referred me. Need a consultation. Tomorrow if possible."

Reply comes back instantly.

"Mrs. Kane. 2 PM tomorrow. My office. Come alone. Bring everything."

I delete the message. Turn off the phone. Hide it behind a book Marcus never touches.

Through the window, Manhattan spreads out below. Somewhere out there, Sienna's probably waiting for his call. Maybe touching her belly, dreaming about a baby he'll never let her keep.

I should hate her. But I don't. She's just another woman he's lying to.

The next afternoon, I walk into Gloria Steinberg's office. Fifty-seventh floor, views of the park. She's exactly what I expected. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.

"Mrs. Kane. Sit."

I slide the envelope across her desk. Photos. Bank records. The hospital recording. Sienna's texts. Everything.

She reviews it all. Face blank. When she finishes, she looks up.

"This is airtight. Adultery, financial deception, evidence of violence. You could take him for forty percent, easy."

"I don't want his money. I just want out."

Her eyebrow lifts.

"Most clients want blood."

"I want freedom. Not the same thing."

She nods slow. Respect in her eyes.

"We'll file next week. No-fault with grounds for equitable distribution. You'll get your pre-marital investment appreciation back, legal fees covered. Two months, maybe less."

"And he won't know till it's done?"

"Not till the papers hit. By then you'll be gone."

I stand. Shake her hand.

"Thank you."

"Mrs. Kane?" She stops me at the door. "Whatever you're planning, do it fast. Men like him don't let go easy."

I'm reading when my phone buzzes. Unknown number. I almost delete it.

"He told me you're boring in bed."

My hand tightens on the phone.

"He says you're the reason he can't be himself."

I don't shake. Don't cry. Screenshot. Save.

"I'm pregnant with his son. You're just a placeholder."

I stand. Walk to the window. Stare at my reflection.

"He's divorcing you after the IPO. You didn't know?"

"I'm moving into a bigger place next month. Thanks for paying for it."

"Does it hurt? Knowing you're not enough?"

I type one reply.

"Keep him. I'm done."

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

"What do you mean?"

I don't answer. Block the number.

That evening, the door opens downstairs.

"Evelyn? You home?"

I lock my phone. Walk to the stairs. Smile fixed.

"Here. You're home early."

He climbs toward me. Pulls me into a kiss. Coffee and lies.

"Let's have dinner. Just us."

We sit at the table. He talks about his day, some investor story. His hand reaches for mine across the candlelight. He's trying so hard to be present.

"You're quiet tonight."

"Just happy we're doing this." I squeeze his hand. "It's nice."

I'm thinking about how good you are at lying.

After dinner, he pulls me close in the living room. His hands cup my face.

"I've missed you these months. Missed this. Us."

He kisses me. Soft first, then deeper. Hands on my waist.

"Come here."

We move to the bedroom. He's gentle. Reverent. Trying to prove something to himself.

"I love you, Evelyn. You know that, right? You're everything to me."

"I know. Love you too."

This is what dying feels like. Being touched by someone you thought you loved and feeling nothing. His lips taste like poison. He says he loves me while his phone sits downstairs with her messages. While his child grows in another woman. While he plans to leave me after the IPO.

Marcus falls asleep fast. Breathing even and peaceful.

How do you sleep so well? How do you lie to my face and then just sleep?

I lie there staring at the ceiling.

The clock says 2:47 AM. Haven't moved. Haven't slept.

My phone lights up. I slide out from under his arm. He doesn't stir.

"Foster told me about your decision. Amazon project starts next month. We have a spot. Ready whenever you are. J"

Something breaks inside me. Not pain. Relief.

I type back.

"Thank you. I'll be there."

I look at Marcus. He's sleeping peaceful, one arm still reaching for where I was.

I walk to the closet. At the back, behind the dresses he bought, is a small safe. My safe. The one thing he doesn't have the combination to.

Inside. Passport. Birth certificate. Columbia degree. My mother's pearl necklace. Stock certificates from my Goldman days. Fifty thousand cash. Emergency fund I never told him about.

I pull out a small leather bag. Start packing.

Passport. Documents. My grandmother's ring. Photos from before Marcus.

From my nightstand, I take the envelope Torres gave me. All the evidence. Photos of Marcus and Sienna. Bank records. The hospital recording.

Add it to the bag. Zip it closed.

The bag goes back in the safe. Behind the dresses. Out of sight.

I walk back to bed. Marcus still sleeping. He looks peaceful. Almost innocent.

In three days, you'll wake up to an empty bed. Empty closet. Empty life.

And I'll be free.