I watched him from above. For three years I had waited for an apology, but now I felt neither love nor hatred.

“Get up, Spencer,” I said quietly.

He looked up, hopeful. “So,” he started.

“I’m not going to forgive you to save your company,” I interrupted. “And I’m not going to punish you to feed my pride either. I simply want nothing more from you.”

His face collapsed. “Phoebe, please,” he begged.

I took off the ring I still had in my purse and placed it on a table. “A wife deserves to be honored,” I told him. “And you never knew how to honor anything.”