After the Divorce, I Became His First Love's Sister-in-Law novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Five Lines in Ink

Hazel signs Etienne's terms, serves Colin divorce papers at his family's breakfast, and he signs, sure she is bluffing, until he reads whose letterhead is on the cover.

I did not say yes in the street.

I got into the car, because I was shaking and the rain had soaked through to my skin.

Etienne handed me a folded jacket and then a pen and a single typed page.

"Read it before you answer."

The page was short.

One year of marriage. A divorce on the first anniversary. His family's foundation would pay for my debut recital and my place at the conservatory for two years.

In return I would stand beside him at every family event until then and look like a woman who chose him.

"Why me?" I asked.

"My grandmother will not name me head of the family trust unless I am married by the foundation dinner. That is forty days from tonight."

"You could marry anyone."

"I could marry someone who wants my money." He looked at the window. "I would rather marry someone who wants her piano back."

I read the page again.

Under his terms he had added five lines by hand.

*Separate bedrooms. We touch only when someone is watching. Nobody asks what happened before. Whoever falls first loses. One year, then we part friends.*

"You wrote that fast."

"I've had six years of practice writing to you."

He said it dryly, and I decided not to ask.

"Why would your family agree to this?"

"Delphine will be thrilled," he said. "She has never had a sister."

I looked at his face for any sign of a smile, and found none.

I signed the page against my knee.

He read my name, folded it into his breast pocket, and said, "Thank you."

He took me to a guest room in his apartment and left me alone with a hot bath and a towel.

I slept four hours.

At nine the next morning I stood at the door of the Rutherford house in the same silver gown, with a folder of divorce papers under my arm.

Sunday breakfast at that house was held every week at the long table in the garden room.

Colin's mother always sat at the head.

Colin sat on her right, with a newspaper.

Delphine sat on her left in one of my cardigans.

I saw it from the doorway and stopped.

It was the pale blue one I had left on the chair in the guest room when I moved my winter things last month.

She looked up and smiled, and it was a sweet, tired smile.

"Hazel. I borrowed this, I hope you don't mind. I didn't bring anything warm from Zurich."

"Keep it," I said.

Colin lowered his paper.

He did not look surprised, only satisfied.

"I told you Hazel would come back," he said to his mother. "Sit down, Hazel. Eat something."

"I'm not staying."

I crossed the room and laid the folder beside his plate.

"The divorce papers. I've signed every page. You only have to sign the last one."

The garden room went very quiet.

His mother put down her cup and looked at the folder, and then at my face, and then, for a long moment, at my hands.

"Hazel," she said. "Sit down."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rutherford. I'd rather not."

Colin opened the folder and flipped through it.

He laughed.

"No alimony. No house. No settlement. You're asking for nothing."

"I'm asking for nothing."

"You have no money, Hazel. You have no job. You haven't touched a piano outside this family in three years." His voice stayed warm and patient. "How long do you think you can last?"

"I'll tell you when I find out."

"You'll be back by Friday."

"Then Friday will be a short day for you."

He picked up the pen beside his plate and signed the last page in one slash.

He tossed it across the cloth, and the pen rolled to the edge and stopped.

"There. Now go and cry in a hotel."

Delphine got up from her chair and came around the table.

She put her arms around me and held on.

"I'm so sorry," she said into my ear. "I never meant to come between you. Please, please let me help."

She smelled of my own soap.

"You've already helped," I said, and stepped out of her arms.

I took the folder back and slid it into its envelope.

"The decree will take thirty days," I said. "My attorney will send the filing today."

"Your attorney," Colin said, and snorted. "Who would take your case?"

"He's very good."

I pulled the cover letter from the folder and set it down on top of his newspaper so he could read the letterhead.

It said *Marchand Hospitality, Legal Office of the Chairman, Etienne Marchand.*

Delphine's hand stopped on my sleeve.

Colin read the name once, then read it again.

His face went white in a flat, slow way, and he turned his head toward her.

"Delphine," he said. "That is your brother."

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