My phone buzzed before I even finished reading. A message from Grant:
Meet me at Westbridge Courthouse at 2. We’ll finalize.
No apology. No explanation. Just instructions—like I was another task on his afternoon schedule.
The Courthouse
The courthouse smelled of worn carpet and cleaning chemicals. Grant was already there when I arrived.
He looked refreshed—crisp navy suit, hair perfectly styled, radiating the relaxed confidence of someone who believed he had already won.Alimony calculator
Beside him stood a woman in a cream dress and high heels, her manicured hand resting on his arm like it belonged there.
Tessa Monroe.
I recognized her instantly. She worked at Grant’s office. The same coworker he once told me not to worry about. The same woman whose “holiday party invitation” I skipped because Grant insisted I was “too tired to attend.”
Grant glanced at my stomach and grimaced. Not concern. Not guilt. Disgust.
“I couldn’t stay with a woman with a big belly like you,” he said flatly.
