Chapter 21: The Blank Page

Winslow's POV

The house was too quiet to sleep in.

I sat at the dining table at eleven that night with the envelope in front of me and a lamp I had not turned on in two weeks.

I read the petition twice.

It was twelve pages, clean and fair.

She asked for nothing she had not earned.

She kept the trust, she kept the house, and she asked nothing of my company, because I had already given it.

On page nine, in plain type, was a line about our child.

The father shall have access at the mother's discretion.

I read that one four times.

My lawyer called at midnight.

He had read the copy her lawyer sent.

"It's the best offer a man in your position will ever see," he said. "Sign it. She's not asking for a dollar. You walk out clean."

"I don't want to walk out clean."

"Winslow. You drugged her for two years."

"I know what I did."

"Then sign, and take what she's giving you."

I looked at the line on page nine.

"No," I said.

"No?"

"I'm not signing a divorce she's asking for because of a rule I wrote."

"It is exactly what you wrote."

"I wrote it so I'd never have to be the one who was left," I said. "I'm not going to let it be the thing that ends us. I'll call you in the morning."

I hung up.

I stood, and I went into the study, and I opened the safe.

The Lie Book was where I had put it after the prosecutor made her copy.

I laid it on the desk and turned to the last page.

It was white.

I picked up a pen.

At the top I wrote the number.

100.

Under it, I wrote the date.

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