The Contract Wife Chapter 07
I knew who it was.
But I wasn’t going to answer.
I switched the phone off.
By the time I turned it back on, over ten hours had passed.
The plane had landed in Zurich. The cool night air, laced with an unfamiliar language, hit me the moment I stepped out.
When I powered the phone back on, messages and missed calls flooded in like a tide. It buzzed for a solid minute.
The board’s email was severe: “Why weren’t we informed about the divorce beforehand? What about the ongoing joint venture with Ashford Holdings?”
My father called. His voice held a weariness and tenderness I had never heard before. He said only:
“Come home when you’re tired.”
Most of the other messages I didn’t even open.
I swiped through them, selected all, deleted.
Just before I went to bed, an unknown New York number called again.
I hesitated, then answered.
A long silence on the other end. Then a voice, hoarse and drained:
“Evelyn… how you felt about me…”
I didn’t let him finish.
“Nathan, don’t read into it.”
My voice was calm.
“Who hasn’t had some hopeless teenage crush at some point? Don’t take it to heart.”
Another long silence.
Then he said, “Can we… meet?”
“I’m at the European branch dealing with some things. I’ll be back in a month to sign the final papers.”
He seemed about to say something more. I didn’t give him the chance. I hung up.
Then I blocked the number.
I switched the phone to silent and left it on the nightstand.
Outside, the old town of Zurich glittered with warm, unfamiliar lights.
I closed my eyes.
By seven the next morning, still jet-lagged, I was already at Sinclair Capital’s European office.
“I want the quarterly reports for every project from the last six months on my desk. Nine o’clock. All department heads. Conference room.”
For the entire following month, I poured everything I had into work.
Financials in the morning. Meetings in the afternoon. Clients in the evening.
I drank coffee like water. When my voice went hoarse, I ignored it.
The Swiss supply-chain integration project, dragged out for eight months, was headed by a famously stubborn, conservative CEO. I flew to Zurich three times, prepared a sixty-seven-page proposal with a full risk assessment, and closed the deal.
An Eastern European compliance issue blew up. I flew out personally, worked four days without sleep, untangled every thread, resolved the problem, and picked up two new distribution channels along the way.
By the end of the month, the European branch’s quarterly earnings were up ninety-two percent year over year.
The numbers made it back to the New York headquarters.
When my father called, he couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. “I’ve smoothed things over with the board. Well done.”
By unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned the divorce.
Day twenty-nine.
I booked a flight back to New York.
The plane touched down. I went straight from the airport to the lawyer’s office.
Nathan had arrived before me. He stood in the office, suit as sharp as ever, still lean, only thinner than before.
When he saw me come in, he stepped forward—and then forced himself still.
His lips parted. In the end, no sound came.
Finally, he said quietly, “You’re here.”
“Mm.”
I nodded and took the seat beside my own lawyer.
The signing was more peaceful than I’d imagined.
My lawyer confirmed every clause. Nathan transferred the estate and all agreed-upon assets into my name.
The moment the final decree was signed, I’d expected to feel some grief.
But standing there, I felt only that all of it seemed like another lifetime.
Walking out of the building, he called after me.
“Evelyn.”
I looked back.
“Take care.”
“You too,” I said. “Goodbye, Nathan.”
I turned and walked down the steps, into the bright autumn sunlight of New York.
No footsteps followed.