My Regretful Ex-Husband novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Test

Jonas secretly reopens the care fees, learns his mother had his ex-wife followed, and hears from Camille that Wren is sick in the mornings.

At nine-forty that night, Jonas Pryce sat in his dark study and paid a stranger's care bill.

It was the third year he had paid it.

He had never told his wife.

Tonight he had learned that his mother closed the account at six.

He reopened it with his thumb, from his phone, before he let himself think about why.

The gold ring lay on the desk, on top of the gray folder.

Her signature was at the bottom of the last page.

It was neat and a little slanted, the same as it was on every grocery list.

He had been sure she would argue.

He had practiced what he would say when she cried, and what he would say when she threw the ring.

He had practiced the moment after that, when he would tell her to stay.

Instead she had asked for nothing.

The housekeeper had watched her go down the drive on foot, and had not looked at him since.

A woman who had been paid to marry him would have taken every dollar.

Jonas did not know what to do with a wife who hadn't.

He sat there until after midnight.

At eight in the morning he went in to breakfast.

His mother was already at the table in her silk blouse, buttering toast, with the paper folded at her elbow.

"You look dreadful," Margaret said. "Sit. Eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"She signed, Jonas. Be glad."

He sat. The fountain pen from last night was still on the sideboard, capped.

"She refused the settlement," he said. "All of it. The house and the money."

"Pride," Margaret said. "It's the last thing girls like that have left."

"A girl like what?"

His mother lifted her eyes. They were gentle, as they always were.

"Darling. You know exactly what she was. We talked about it in March."

He did know.

Since March he had known his wife was hired to marry him, because the proof was in his mother's folder with Wren's name signed at the bottom.

He had gone home that night and been cold to Wren for two months.

She had not once asked him why.

That was the part he could not forgive. She had never asked.

"She's already working," Margaret said, and turned a page. "At that little bakery on Fifth. I had Camille order the gala cake from her."

Jonas put down his coffee.

"You had Camille do what?"

"The foundation needs a cake. I merely suggested the shop."

"How did you know where Wren went?"

"Dear, the driver followed her. Don't look at me like that. I wanted to be sure she was safe."

His mother smiled at him, fondly.

It was the smile she had used when he was nine and she had read his diary.

Jonas left the table without touching his eggs.

At ten, his assistant put a call through.

"Mr. Pryce, the lawyer says she waived everything. No alimony, no property, no claims. The filing goes through on Monday."

"Fine."

"He wants to know if you're certain."

"I'm certain," Jonas said.

He wasn't. He said it anyway and hung up.

At eleven, his office door opened without a knock.

Camille Dray stood there in a camel coat, with her black hair cut shorter than he remembered.

Five years had not changed the way she looked at him. She looked straight at him.

"Hello, Jonas."

He stood up.

He had imagined this a hundred times, and in none of them had it felt like this.

"You should have called," he said.

"I did. Your office said you were busy." She did not smile. "I just came from Daley's Bakery."

"Camille."

"Your wife took my cake order. Your ex-wife, I mean. She told me what happened last night."

"She told you?"

"She went gray when I said my name. She nearly went over the counter." Camille stepped closer.

"She's sick in the mornings, Jonas. I gave her a ginger chew and she took it like a lifeline."

Jonas stood very still.

"What are you saying?"

"That a woman who walked out with nothing is throwing up at ten a.m."

Camille held his eyes.

"And I'm saying you should ask your mother why I left."

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