Sure you do. I sat down in the chair by the window, the same chair where I'd watched her get ready for her first date with Nathan. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The question is whether you're going to keep lying or finally tell me the truth.
She sat up straighter and I saw her shift into the defensive posture she used in business negotiations. Jack, you're scaring me. You're acting paranoid and unstable. Maybe you should talk to someone.
Stop. The word came out sharper than I'd intended. Just stop. I know about the text messages documenting my behavior.
I know about the business intelligence you've been feeding Nathan. I know about Richard Steinberg and the asset protection planning. I know about the previous marriages and the pattern of fraud. I know all of it, Megan.
She stared at me for a long moment and I saw her calculating her options. Deny everything and hope I was bluffing. Admit to part of it and try to control the narrative or go on the offensive and try to turn me into the villain. She chose option three.
You've been stalking me, she said, her voice rising with manufactured fear. Following me, vandalizing Nathan's car, threatening people. You're having some kind of breakdown, Jack, and I'm afraid of what you might do. To who?
To you? To Nathan? To Emily, to all of us? You're not the man I married.
You've become someone I don't recognize. I laughed. A sound with no humor in it. You're right about that.
The man you married was naive enough to trust you, stupid enough to believe your lies, weak enough to let you walk all over him for 15 years. That's not. But I'm not that man anymore. Thanks to you, I've learned some valuable lessons about deception, manipulation, and revenge.
You've been an excellent teacher. Megan reached for her phone, probably to call 911 or start recording our conversation for evidence. I was faster, grabbing it from her hands and tossing it across the room. No more documentation, I said.
No more evidence gathering. Just you and me and the truth. You're insane. Maybe, but I'm not stupid.
I know about the other husbands, Megan. I know this isn't your first rodeo. How many men have you destroyed? How many families have you torn apart for your own benefit?
She went very still, like a deer, sensing a predator. I don't know what lies Nathan's been telling you. Nathan's just as much a victim as I am. You played him perfectly.
Made him think he was seducing you when you were really recruiting him for your scheme. How long did it take you to find him? How long were you planning this before you made your move? You're paranoid.
I'm thorough. There's a difference. I pulled out my phone and showed her some of the evidence Lisa had compiled. Financial records, marriage certificates, divorce decrees, a pattern of behavior spanning 20 years and four different states.
Margaret Walsh, formerly Margaret Chen, formerly Margaret Rodriguez, formerly Margaret Thompson. Four marriages, four divorces, four substantial financial settlements. You're like a oneperson wrecking crew, except instead of buildings, you leave behind broken men and shattered families. She looked at the screen and I saw something flicker across her face.
Not shame or regret, but annoyance at being caught. You can't prove any of that. Actually, I can. I've got documentation going back to your first marriage in Nevada.
Poor guy was a construction worker. Built you a house with his own hands. You took half his assets and left him bankrupt. He was abusive.
No, he wasn't. Just like I'm not abusive, and Nathan's not abusive, and Richard Steinberg won't be abusive when you're done with him. That's just the story you tell to justify what you do. Megan stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the street where we'd raised our daughter and built what I'd thought was a life together.
"You don't understand," she said finally. "Then explain it to me." "Men are weak. They promise things they can't deliver, make commitments they can't keep. They say they love you, but what they really love is the idea of you.
The fantasy of the perfect wife who will make their lives easier and their egos bigger. So, you decided to punish all of us. I decided to take what I could get before you inevitably disappointed me, before you cheated or left or just gradually lost interest and started treating me like furniture. There was something almost sad in her voice, a glimpse of whatever had broken inside her years ago and turned her into this calculating predator.
I never cheated on you, I said. I never left. I never stopped loving you. You stopped seeing me, stopped appreciating what you had, started taking me for granted like I was just part of the household inventory.
So, you decided to have an affair. I decided to protect myself to make sure that when this marriage ended and they all end, Jack, I'd be the one walking away with something instead of being left with nothing. What about Emily? What about our daughter?
Emily will be fine. She's smart, strong, independent. She doesn't need a father who's going to disappoint her the way all men eventually disappoint the women who love them. The casual cruelty of that statement hit me like a slap.
This wasn't just about money or revenge. This was about Megan's fundamental belief that all relationships were doomed. That love was just a temporary delusion before the inevitable betrayal. You're wrong, I said, about men, about love, about everything.