Julian leaned forward.

“I’m her husband.”

“Correct.”

“We’re having a baby.”

“Also correct.”

Arthur’s tone didn’t change.

Julian looked at me.

“You’re seriously doing this?”

I nodded.

“Last night you told me to leave.”

“I was angry.”

“You said this was your house.”

“People say things during fights.”

I looked toward the dining table.

“You also said you could have a hundred wives.”

Eleanor closed her eyes.

“Genevieve, please. Must we keep repeating that?”

“No.”

I stood.

“We don’t have to repeat anything.”

That was when Arthur’s phone buzzed.

He checked the screen.

“The account review is in.”

Julian turned toward him.

Arthur wasn’t investigating Eleanor criminally. There was no dramatic forensic team.

There didn’t need to be.

Julian had authorized transfers into an account Eleanor controlled.

The records were simple.

Money came in.

Money went out.

A significant amount had gone to contractors and vendors in Ohio.

Julian stared at the transaction summary.

“Ethan.”

Eleanor crossed her arms.

“Your brother needed help.”

“You told me you were investing it.”

“I was investing in the family.”

“You said stocks. Funds. Retirement.”

“Julian—”

“How much?”

She didn’t answer.

“Mom. How much did you give Ethan?”

Eleanor looked at me instead.

“This is exactly what she wanted.”

Julian’s face went still.

“Don’t.”

Eleanor blinked.

It was the first time I’d heard him speak to her that way.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t make this about Genevieve.”

She stared at her son.

Julian looked back down at the transfers.

For once, nobody needed to explain anything to him.

Twelve Hours Later

The anger disappeared quickly after that.

Julian became practical.

“Okay. We need to slow down.”

Arthur gathered the papers.

“You may discuss your marriage privately. My role is limited to Genevieve’s property.”

Julian turned to me.

“Gen, please.”

He hadn’t called me Gen in months.

“We’re about to have a child.”

I rested one hand against the edge of the table.

“I know.”

“This affects everything.”

“I know.”

“My job. My reputation. People know where I live.”

That caught my attention.

Not our marriage.

Not the baby.

His reputation.

Eleanor stood beside him.

Her voice softened immediately.

“Genevieve, families fight. Pregnancy is stressful. Everyone said things last night they didn’t mean.”

I looked at her.

“What did I say that I didn’t mean?”

She had no answer.

Julian walked toward me.

“I didn’t actually expect you to leave.”

“Why not?”

He stopped.

“Because you’re my wife.”

“The replaceable one?”

He looked down.

Eleanor began crying.

Not loudly.

She sat at the table and pressed a tissue beneath her eyes.

“Think about my grandchild.”

I did.

That was exactly what I had been doing.

I didn’t want my child growing up believing love meant quietly paying for everything while somebody else took credit.

I didn’t want a daughter learning that being a wife meant accepting whatever came after but she’s my mother.

And I didn’t want a son learning he could humiliate his wife as long as he apologized when consequences appeared.

Arthur slid one final document toward Julian.

It was formal notice terminating his right to occupy the penthouse under our existing arrangement, subject to the required notice period and whatever further agreements our attorneys reached.

Julian read it.

His face went pale.

“You’re throwing me out?”

“I’m asking you to find somewhere else to stay while we handle the marriage.”

“Genevieve, where am I supposed to go?”

For a moment, I almost answered automatically.

I almost started solving the problem for him.

Hotel.

Corporate apartment.

Friend’s guest room.

Then I remembered the night before.

The four bowls.

His hand against the table.

Pack your things and leave my house.

I pushed the document back toward him.

“You said you could find another wife.”

He looked at me.

“Don’t do that.”

“Then finding another place to live should be manageable.”

Eleanor stood.

“And what about me?”

I looked at her.

She seemed genuinely surprised.

That surprised me too.

“You’ll need to make arrangements with Arthur.”

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

I walked into the kitchen.

My ramen bowl was still there.

I took it from the counter and placed it in the sink.

Twelve hours earlier, Julian had been standing in a five-million-dollar penthouse telling his pregnant wife to get out of his home.

Now he was sitting at my dining table asking where he was supposed to live.

I didn’t enjoy it.

That part surprised me.

There was no rush of victory.

Mostly, I felt tired.

I walked toward the balcony doors and stepped outside.

Manhattan moved below me as if nothing unusual had happened.

Cars crawled between buildings.

Someone walked a dog on the sidewalk.

A delivery truck stopped at the corner.

Behind me, I could hear Arthur explaining something to Julian.

Eleanor was crying again.

Julian kept interrupting him.

“There has to be another option.”

I put both hands over my stomach.

For years, I’d paid for groceries, electricity, vacations, repairs, dinners, furniture, household help, and almost every quiet expense that made our life look effortless.

Julian earned $25,000 a month.

His mother controlled it.

And somehow they had both decided I was the dependent one.

I had allowed Julian to feel successful because I loved him.

I had stayed quiet because I didn’t need credit.

I had made his life easier because I thought that’s what spouses sometimes did for each other.

He had mistaken all three things for need.

The balcony door opened behind me.

Julian stepped halfway outside.

“Genevieve.”

I turned.

His tie was gone.

“Can we please talk without lawyers?”

“Later.”

“When?”

I looked back toward the city.

“After you figure out where you’re staying.”

He stood there for another second.

Then the door closed.

Inside, Eleanor asked Arthur whether Ethan’s next payment could still be made.

I actually laughed.

Just once.

Then I felt the baby move beneath my hands.

The night before, Julian had reminded me that he would only ever have one mother.

By morning, I had finally stopped standing between them.

Now he was completely free to live with her.