Roger read every line.
No one lost everything. Kimberly would leave the marriage with assets. So would Roger.
There was no cinematic punishment. No judge slamming a gavel and awarding Roger every dollar because his wife cheated.
There were only consequences attached to evidence.
That was enough.
At 8:06, the mediator asked whether Roger could accept the framework.
Roger looked at Amanda. "Do the numbers work within the ranges we've discussed?"
"Yes."
"Any unresolved exposure?"
"The house."
Roger looked down.
Of course.
The house.
If Kimberly could not refinance, it would be sold. But another possibility existed.
Roger could seek to retain it himself as part of the final division. Financially, he could probably do it.
He had sufficient income. Strong credit. Liquidity.
His business position was improving.
The question was no longer whether Roger could keep Ashborne Drive.
It was whether he wanted to.
That night, he drove past the house. He did not stop.
The porch light was on. Kimberly's Lexus sat in the driveway. From the street, nothing had changed.
Roger slowed. He remembered painting the front door. Christmas lights along the gutter.
Megan's daughter running through the sprinkler in the backyard. Kimberly asleep on the couch during a Sunday football game.
Then another image.
Two wine glasses.
Jason's shoes beside the stairs.
"Aren't you away?"
Roger drove on.
At the apartment, he found an email from Mark Ellison. The consultancy's ownership restructuring was moving forward.
Roger was being offered an expanded partnership position. He read the terms.
For years, Kimberly had thought Roger's caution meant he lacked ambition. But Roger had never wanted fast money.
He wanted durable things.
Work that held.
Investments he understood.
A house he could afford.
A marriage he believed was real.
Three of those remained.
One did not.
The next morning, Amanda called.
"We need your decision on the house before we finalize the next proposal."
"How long?"
"A few days."
Roger looked around the apartment. Beige walls. Four plates.
One unfinished shelf.
He could keep Ashborne Drive. He could walk back through that front door after the divorce.
He could repaint. Replace the bed. Change the furniture.
Claim the house as proof that Kimberly had not taken everything.
Financially, it was possible.
Roger realized that was exactly why the decision mattered.
Keeping something because you could was not the same as keeping it because you wanted it.
He looked out the window. "I need to go there."