Divorce

Monica signed the divorce papers at Attorney Morrison's office. George sat across from her, avoiding eye contact. Sharon Don waited in the hallway, checking her manicure.

"Fifty thousand dollars and you keep your personal jewelry," Morrison said. "Mr. Winston retains all property, investments, and business assets."

"Fine," Monica said. She wanted this finished.

"The penthouse will be vacated by Friday. Mrs. Winston's belongings will be packed and delivered to her specified address."

Monica gave them her mother's Connecticut address. She couldn't afford Manhattan rent on fifty thousand dollars.

"One more thing," George said quietly. "The media will ask questions. I'd prefer if we kept the details private."

"You mean don't tell anyone you cheated."

"For both our reputations."

Monica laughed bitterly. "My reputation is already destroyed. Yours is fine."

She signed the final page and stood up.

"Mrs. Winston, or rather, Miss Charleston," Morrison corrected himself. "You have thirty days to change your name back legally."

"Already planned."

Monica walked toward the door. George followed her into the hallway where Sharon waited impatiently.

"Finally," Sharon said. "I've been waiting twenty minutes. George, we have the engagement party planning meeting in an hour."

Monica stopped walking. "Engagement party? The divorce isn't even final yet."

"It will be in three days," Sharon smiled coldly. "George and I see no reason to waste time."

"Monica," George said. "About last night at the hotel..."

"What about last night?" Sharon demanded.

George had come to Monica's hotel room after the papers were served. He'd been drinking and talking about regret. One thing led to another. Monica hated herself for sleeping with him, but she'd needed to feel wanted one last time.

"Nothing important," Monica said. "Just saying goodbye."

Sharon looked suspicious but George nodded.

"Take care of yourself, Monica," George said.

Monica walked out of the law office and didn't look back.

Three weeks later, Monica sat in her childhood bedroom in Connecticut, staring at pregnancy test results. Positive. She was carrying George Winston's baby.

Her mother knocked on the door. "Monica, honey? You've been up there for hours."

"Come in, Mom."

Eleanor Charleston entered with tea and cookies. "Any luck with the job applications?"

Monica hadn't applied for any jobs. She'd been too depressed to leave her room most days.

"Mom, I need to tell you something."

"What is it, dear?"

"I'm pregnant."

Eleanor dropped the tea tray. Cups shattered on the hardwood floor.

"Pregnant? How is that possible?"

"The usual way."

"But you've been divorced for weeks."

"George came to my hotel room the night the papers were served. I was stupid and emotional and..."

"Oh, Monica."

"I can't tell him. He's married to Sharon now. They had their wedding last week."

"This baby is his child too. He has a right to know."

"He has a right to nothing. George threw me away like garbage. I won't give him the chance to reject our baby too."

Eleanor sat on the bed next to Monica. "What will you do?"

"Raise the baby myself. Move somewhere George won't find us."

"You can stay here."

"No. Everyone in town knows about the divorce. They'll gossip about the timing when the baby arrives."

Monica had already done the math. If she moved away now, she could claim the baby was from a relationship after her divorce. No one would question it.

"Where will you go?"

"Boston. I have college friends there. I can start fresh."

"Monica, think about this carefully. Raising a child alone is difficult."

"More difficult than staying married to a man who never loved me?"

Eleanor couldn't argue with that.

That evening, Monica called her college roommate Sarah Chen in Boston.

"Monica! I heard about the divorce. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks. Listen, I need a favor. Can I stay with you for a while? I want to start over somewhere new."

"Of course! How long do you need?"

"Maybe a year. I'm thinking about starting a business."

"What kind of business?"

Monica had been thinking about this. "Corporate consulting. I learned a lot about business operations during my marriage. Companies pay good money for restructuring advice."

"That sounds perfect for you. When can you come?"

"Next week."

Sarah shifted the phone to her other ear, already mentally rearranging her spare bedroom. "That's fast, but don't worry, we'll make it work. I've got that extra room, and honestly, I'd love the company. This place gets lonely."

Monica felt a wave of relief wash over her. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been until Sarah's immediate acceptance. "You're a lifesaver, Sarah. I know it's sudden, but I can't stay here anymore. Every corner of this house reminds me of him, of what we had."

"I get it completely. Fresh starts require fresh scenery." Sarah paused, then continued with growing enthusiasm. "And Boston's perfect for consulting work. Tons of corporations here, plenty of startups too. You'll have no shortage of potential clients."

"I hope so. I've been researching the market, and there's definitely demand. Small to medium companies especially need help with operational efficiency, but they can't afford the big consulting firms."

"See? You've already found your niche." Sarah's voice brightened. "Remember how you used to organize our entire dorm floor? You had color-coded schedules for everything—laundry, study groups, even pizza deliveries. This consulting thing is just that, but with better pay."

Monica laughed for the first time in weeks. "God, I forgot about those schedules. You all thought I was crazy."

"Crazy organized, maybe. But it worked. Everyone's grades improved that semester."

"Thanks for believing in me, Sarah. I really need this right now."

"That's what roommates are for—then and now. Pack light for the trip up. We can figure out shipping your stuff later."

"Will do. See you next week.”

After hanging up, Monica started planning. She had fifty thousand dollars from the divorce settlement plus her trust fund from her grandmother. Enough seed money to start a consulting firm.

George thought she'd contributed nothing to Winston Corporation. But Monica had attended every board meeting, read every financial report, understood every business decision. She knew more about running companies than George realized.

Her phone rang. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Monica, it's Judge Simon. George's friend."

She remembered him from their wedding. George's best man and legal advisor.

"What do you want?"

"I heard about the divorce. I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine."

"Are you? George seems miserable. The marriage to Sharon isn't going well."

"Not my problem anymore."

"Monica, I know what really happened. Germany Slater has been filling George's head with lies about you for months. And Sharon isn't who she pretends to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow. There are things you need to know about why your marriage really ended."

Monica hesitated. She was trying to move forward, not look backward.

"Please," Simon said. "George doesn't know I'm calling you. But someone needs to tell you the truth about Germany Slater's involvement in your divorce."

"I'll meet you. One hour. Then I'm done with anything connected to George Winston."

"Thank you, Monica. Noon at the Riverside Café on Main Street."

Monica hung up, wondering what Simon could possibly tell her that would matter now. Her marriage was over. George had moved on with Sharon.

But curiosity won. Tomorrow she'd hear what Judge Simon had to say. Then she'd pack her bags and start her new life in Boston.

With or without George Winston's baby.