Spencer’s gaze slid away, and in that small movement I understood that he had already been to his grandfather, the chairman.

The family wanted a clean story to hand the shareholders: a tired old marriage quietly dissolved, a new love honestly pursued.

A tidy, palatable lie.

The instant my attorney stepped out to take a call, Spencer leaned across the desk toward me, dropping his voice.

“I don’t actually want to divorce you, Cordelia.

We only need to do this for the public.” And then, holding my hands in both of his, he laid out the plan — and I understood, listening, that he had gone somewhere past ordinary selfishness into a place that was almost impressive in its gall.

Chapter 11 — One Condition