Chapter 12 - Reckoning at the Gala
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People on the sidewalk stopped to stare, whispering behind their coats, but Silas didn't care.
"Take the company, Laurel," he begged, his voice breaking into raw sobs.
"Take the house."
"Take every dollar I have ever made."
"Just don't erase me."
"Don't sign those papers."
Laurel looked down at him, her gray-green eyes clear and untroubled by his display.
She did not feel satisfaction.
She did not feel cruelty.
She only felt the quiet certainty of someone who had survived a shipwreck and finally reached dry land.
"Get up, Silas," she said gently.
"You're making a spectacle of yourself."
"I don't care about the spectacle!" he shouted through his tears, grabbing the hem of her trousers with wet fingers.
"I slapped you!"
"I hit the only woman who ever loved me for who I was, not for what I had!"
"I let that viper into our home because I was arrogant and bored!"
"Punish me, Laurel!"
"Take everything I own, ruin me in the press, destroy my reputation—but don't leave me alone in that dark house!"
Laurel knelt down slowly so that she was level with his eyes.
She adjusted her umbrella so it shielded his wet head from the freezing rain.
"When you struck me on Christmas Eve, Silas, you thought you were putting me in my place."
"You thought that without your name, your money, and your protection, I was nothing."
"You forgot that before I was your wife, I was a whole person."
"I don't hate you, Silas."
"Hatred requires energy, and I need all my energy to build my new life."
Silas stared at her, realizing with absolute horror that she meant every single word.
"Is there nothing left?" he choked out.
May you like
"Nothing," she whispered.
She stood up, stepped around him, and walked away into the city.
