Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“The moment you mention divorce, everyone laughs.”
That was how it always was.
They laughed at me for saying I wanted out, laughed at the idea that I could leave Ethan Cross and still survive. What was I supposed to rely on once I walked away? The degree I’d never used? My old academic record? My pride?
I’d graduated from an elite top-tier university.
After the wedding, though, that degree had become nothing more than a decoration in a drawer.
I stayed quiet.
My silence only made them bolder.
“So what exactly do you have?” someone asked with a grin. “If you leave Ethan, can you even afford to live? What, are you planning to support yourself with that diploma?”
“I can,” I said.
I really could.
Even after all these years of marriage, I had enough tucked away to live on for a while. I wasn’t so helpless that I’d starve the second I walked out the door.
But they just laughed harder.
Jason Cole swirled his drink and looked me up and down like I was a joke set out for the table’s entertainment. “Claire, you’re really serious about this? You honestly think women have it easy out there? You’ve been living in comfort for so long, you really think you can handle the real world?”
Ethan leaned back in his chair, a wine glass in hand, one arm draped lazily over the backrest behind me.
He didn’t stop them.
Not once.
His friends were laughing so hard they were practically folded over the table.
“One word from you and she’s threatening divorce?” Ryan Mercer snorted. “Ethan, your wife’s got a temper.”
Another one chimed in, “Come on, she’s just throwing a fit. Give her a day or two and she’ll come crawling back. Claire, right? We should probably keep an eye on you.”
More laughter.
Even a few of the women sitting nearby smiled along.
“Mrs. Cross,” one of them said, her tone syrupy and sharp at the same time, “we all know you can’t live without Ethan. You’re not really going to leave him, are you? A woman on her own isn’t exactly easy these days.”
The private room buzzed with amusement.
I sat there, listening to them define my life for me.
To them, this was normal.
That was the worst part.
No one thought anything was wrong.
When one of them finished, someone else picked right up, congratulating Ethan like he’d won some private game. “Cross, you’ve trained her well. She doesn’t dare make a real scene.”
Then someone added, laughing, “Exactly. What woman in her position would ever really leave?”
The smile on my face slowly disappeared.
“Mrs. Cross, don’t take it so seriously,” one of them said. “We’re just joking.”
Just joking.
That phrase had become their favorite shield.
I looked at him and said calmly, “Then I’m joking too. Why does only your kind of joke count?”
The room fell quiet for a fraction of a second.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Not long. Just enough.
A subtle change passed through the air.
I lowered my eyes, stared at the wine in front of me, and let out a soft laugh.
Jason noticed immediately. He clicked his tongue and said, almost like he was scolding me, “Aw, come on, don’t be like that. Everyone knows Ethan spoils you. No one here actually means anything by it. Why are you making your husband look bad?”
I looked up at him.
His expression was easygoing, casual, the exact expression people wore when they wanted to make cruelty look harmless.
Ryan grinned wider. “She’s too quiet, that’s the problem. Claire, we’re all friends here. You really can’t take a joke? If that’s all it takes to upset you, then maybe Ethan has been taking too good care of you.”
I stared at him for two seconds, then said evenly, “Since you care so much, why don’t you stand in for me? Follow Ethan around at every business dinner, pour his drinks, smooth things over, flatter everyone at the table, and let them make fun of you while you smile through it. Do that for a few years, and then you can tell me what counts as a joke.”
Ryan’s smile froze.
The others went quiet too.
Because that was the truth of it.
They enjoyed the atmosphere.
But no one wanted to be the one humiliated.
Someone gave a dry laugh and tried to smooth things over. “Claire, Ethan really got lucky marrying you. How about this—you come work for me instead. I’d definitely take better care of you.”
He looked at me with naked amusement, like I was something being passed around for comment.
Before I could speak, Ethan finally moved.
He coughed lightly.
That single sound pulled everyone’s eyes back to him.
He frowned, as if I were the one who had made things unpleasant, and said in a flat tone, “Claire, enough. They were joking. Don’t make a scene over something this trivial.”
Then he turned to his friends and added, “Sorry. She’s been emotional lately.”
Emotional.
He made me sound irrational with one word.
Then he looked back at me, that familiar half-smile at the corner of his mouth. “Claire, don’t ruin everyone’s mood. Apologize and let it go.”
I almost laughed.
Apologize?
To the people humiliating me?
I looked at the man I had once loved enough to throw away my future for.
I had given up an admission path most people would have envied. I had stepped away from my career. I had spent years helping him build his company from the ground up. I followed him through every stage of his rise, every business dinner, every favor owed, every late-night crisis.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
And in the end, all I had earned was a seat at his table where everyone felt free to laugh at me.
Ethan’s voice hardened. “Claire.”
I stood up.
The chair scraped sharply against the floor.
Every eye in the room snapped to me.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then I picked up the wine glass on the table and poured its contents directly over the white tablecloth in front of him.
Red spread across the fabric like a wound.
The room exploded.
Ethan shot to his feet so fast his chair nearly tipped.
“Claire Bennett,” he snapped, fury flashing across his face, “have you lost your mind? I brought you here to show respect, and this is how you behave? Apologize right now, or if you insist on this nonsense, then go ahead and divorce me!”
“Fine,” I said. “Sign it.”
I took out my phone, pulled up the divorce settlement agreement I’d already prepared, and sent it to him in front of everyone.
“Take a look,” I said. “If there’s nothing wrong with it, print it out and sign.”
The anger on Ethan’s face stalled.
Then it shifted.
He stared at me, and for the first time that night, the arrogance in his expression wavered.
He clearly hadn’t expected me to come prepared.
He thought I was bluffing.
He thought, like every other time before, that I would swallow the insult and go home with him.
Because in his world, I was never the person who left.
I looked around that luxurious private room—the polished silverware, the expensive bottles, the smiling faces that had just been so eager to watch me shrink—and suddenly I felt exhausted.
I was tired of this circle.
Tired of the way they dressed contempt up as humor.
Tired of the way Ethan watched and did nothing.
Tired of being told to endure because that was what a wife was supposed to do.
I said quietly, “From now on, don’t ask me to come to these dinners anymore. I don’t like being here.”
Ethan’s face darkened. “These are important relationships for my company. They’re my closest friends. If you can’t even maintain a decent relationship with them, then what exactly are you good for as my wife?”
Then, as if that weren’t enough, he added, “Besides, they were joking. Claire, you’re not a child. Why are you making such a big deal out of a few laughs?”
I looked at him and realized something almost absurd.
I honestly couldn’t remember when this had started.
Maybe it had been there from the beginning.
Victoria Sterling had once said something to me in private.
She was one of the few women in that circle who never bothered to hide what she thought. She’d looked me straight in the eye and said, “Your husband’s company may have started from scratch, but the people around him? Most of them only know how to laugh and bully when they think someone won’t hit back. And you—you’re too accommodating. If you keep retreating, they’ll take that as permission.”
At the time, I thought she was being harsh.
Now I knew she had been kind.