For being human? For making mistakes? For lying? For stealing company time? For creating a hostile work and environment where your colleagues had to cover for you?
I leaned forward. You want to know what really bothers me about this, Derek? Not that you fell in love with my wife. Feelings happen. I get that.
What bothers me is how entitled you both are. How you act like the rules don't apply to you. Like you should be able to conduct an affair on your employer's dime and face no consequences because your feelings are special. That's not it is fair. You made choices.
Adult choices. Now you get adult consequences. That's how the world works. He stared at his coffee and I watched him realize that charm wouldn't work here. That I wasn't someone he could sweet talk or manipulate.
What do you want from me, Ethan? An apology. I already gave you one graveling. I'll do it if that's what it takes. I don't want anything from you.
I wanted the truth, which I got. I wanted the affair documented, which it is. I wanted to make sure everyone knew what really happened, and now they do. There's nothing else you have that I need. Claire said, "You're destroying her life out of spite. " Claire destroyed her own life.
I'm just refusing to help her hide the wreckage. I stood up. Your 20 minutes are up. Don't contact me again. Wait.
He grabbed my arm and I looked down at his hand until he released it. Just one thing. The question you asked her about me having an illness. There really isn't one, is there? No.
So, so why? Because I wanted her to feel afraid. I wanted her to panic, to run to a doctor, to sit in a waiting room imagining worst case scenarios. I wanted her to experience a fraction of the fear I felt when I got tested for STDs because my wife had been sleeping with someone else without my knowledge. I met his eyes.
I wanted her to understand that actions have consequences beyond just the ones you intend. Understanding dawned on his face. That's that psychological warfare. That's karma. I walked out before he could respond.
Left him sitting there with his cold coffee and his crumbling future. The satisfaction I'd been waiting for finally arrived. Not a flood, just a trickle, but real. Derek understood now. Understood that I wasn't going to be passive or forgiving or understanding.
Understood that there was a price for what he'd done, and I was going to make sure he paid it. My phone buzzed as I reached my car. Allison Reed, thank you for your cooperation today. Your information was very helpful. Then 30 seconds later, another text from an unknown number.
I opened it expecting more from Derek, but it was Claire. They're firing me. I hope you're happy. I hope destroying my career makes you feel better about your own failures. I read it twice, felt each word like a slap, then deleted the message without responding.
She wanted a fight, wanted to make me the villain, wanted to turn her consequences into my cruelty. But I was done engaging with her narrative, done defending myself against accusations from someone who'd lost all credibility. I drove home through afternoon traffic, past coffee shops and grocery stores, and all the normal places where normal people live normal lives. My life didn't feel normal anymore. It felt like performance art, the dissolution of a marriage, an installation piece featuring evidence and accusations and consequences.
At home, I found a box on my doorstep. No return address, just my name and Claire's handwriting. Inside were items I'd left at her parents house over the years, a jacket, some books, a photo album from our honeymoon, things she no longer wanted contaminated with my presence. The photo album hurt. I flipped through it.
Us at Niagara Falls, laughing in the rain, young and in love and so stupidly certain about our future. Claire in a sundress. Me with my arm around her waist. Both of us looking at the camera like we were showing the world what happiness looked like. That couple didn't exist anymore.
Those people were gone, replaced by strangers who'd spent the afternoon trying to hurt each other through lawyers and HR departments and carefully deployed truths. I closed the album, put it in a drawer I wouldn't open again, and sat down at my kitchen table with the divorce papers that needed signing, the financial documents that needed reviewing, the administrative dismantling of a 12-year relationship. My phone rang. My lawyer Megan calling with updates. Ethan, hi.
I have news about the divorce proceedings. Go ahead. Claire's attorney is pushing back on the amended agreement. They're claiming the reimbursement clause for fertility treatments is punitive and not based in legal precedent. It's based on fraud.
She lied about trying to conceive while actively preventing conception. I agree and I think we can argue that successfully, but be prepared. This might go to mediation. Claire's not going to just accept your terms without a fight. Fine, let her fight it.
I have evidence. I know you do. But evidence cuts both ways, Ethan. She could argue emotional distress. Could claim your behavior after discovering the affair was psychologically harmful.
Could paint you as vindictive. Let her try. Megan sighed. I'm saying this as your lawyer and your friend. At some point, you need to decide if being right is worth the cost of proving it.
Divorce mediation can get ugly and expensive fast. Are you prepared for that? I thought about the question she'd asked. The cost of being right. The price of truth.
Yes, I said. Finally, I'm prepared. Okay, then we'll prepare. To prepare for mediation. I'll file the motion next week. " After we hung up, I sat in my kitchen and thought about what was coming.