Chapter 11: Brent at the Gate

Brent Maddox stood at the gate of Pinewood Estates holding three dozen red roses and smiling at a camera.

A producer in a black jacket crouched beside him, and a drone hovered overhead.

"We're live," the producer said. "Three, two, one."

"Cora," Brent said, in his gentlest voice, to the lens. "I made a terrible mistake."

Cora came down the gravel lane in the black dress with her hair still damp.

Ronan walked two steps behind her.

She had told him in the car not to speak, and he had not said a word since.

At the end of the lane, forty neighbors stood on their porches with their arms folded.

The old man from lot nine had brought a folding chair.

"I've missed you," Brent told the camera. "I let pride and pressure and my own foolishness come between us. I want my wife home."

"Your ex-wife," Cora said.

He turned.

His whole face lit with practiced joy.

"There she is," he said, and held out the roses. "Come home, Cora. We'll fix everything. The company, the house, all of it. Say you'll come back."

"No."

The drone buzzed.

Brent's smile held for a long moment.

"You don't mean that," he said, through it. "You're upset. I understand. But think of your grandmother. Think of the roof."

"I did," Cora said. "A man fixed it. For free."

Brent's eyes slid past her to Ronan.

He looked at the ink, and the open collar, and the way Ronan stood very still with his hands at his sides.

His mouth twisted.

"I see," he said, and his voice dropped, though not enough to keep the microphone from catching it. "It's him. You went from my bed to a mechanic's."

"Brent," the producer murmured.

"He used you. You know that? He bought up shares the morning you left, the exact morning. He was waiting for you."

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