Chapter 2

I planned the funeral alone.

Every detail, from the casket to the eulogies, I handled in a state of numb efficiency. The legal community turned out in force. The pews of the old stone church were filled with judges in their solemn robes, powerful partners from every major firm in the city, and clerks who had revered my father. They all came to pay their respects to Judge Fuller.

Andrew' s absence was a gaping hole in the front row, a void everyone saw and whispered about. He wasn't just the son-in-law; he was the protégé. His absence was not just a personal slight; it was a professional scandal.

I tried to rationalize it. Time zones. Bad reception. The immense pressure of the conference. I clung to these flimsy excuses like a life raft.

Then, scrolling through my phone during a sleepless night, I saw it. Andrew' s social media. There he was, tagged in a photo from the conference reception. He stood center stage, beaming, a glass of champagne in his hand, looking confident and successful. The caption read, "Celebrating a big win for the team in London!"

My breath caught. I kept scrolling, my fingers moving of their own accord. I found Jennifer' s profile. There was a picture of her and Andrew, heads close together, laughing at something outside the frame. The post was from two days ago. The day my father died.

And there, under the photo, was a comment from Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you." He had "liked" the post.

The illusion shattered. The excuses evaporated. He wasn't unreachable. He was just unavailable to me. He had time to "like" a photo, to post about his success, but not to answer a single one of my desperate calls. The truth was brutal and simple. I was utterly, completely alone.

The weight of my ten-year devotion, the career I gave up, the life I built around him-it all felt like a colossal, foolish mistake. I looked back at the years of waiting up for him, of canceling my plans for his, of making myself smaller so his ambition could have more room to grow. I remembered the promises he made when we were young, about partnership and family, promises that now sounded like lies.

I called Molly Chadwick, my best friend since college.

"Molly," I said, my voice cracking. "It's over. I need a divorce lawyer."

There was a pause on the other end, then Molly' s no-nonsense voice cut through the static. "I told you this day would come. I've had the paperwork ready for five years. I'll be over in twenty minutes."