Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Or maybe, after all these years of living as a wealthy socialite, she'd simply grown too used to a life of comfort and privilege too unwilling to go back to working

hard.

That had to be it.

All that talk about divorce, about being able to support herself, about making delicate paper cuttings and drinking cheap bottled water-it was all just a show for his benefit, a ploy to get his attention.

No wonder, this time, she'd left Henry sick at home, and came alone to Capital City without asking his permission.

That comic-style painting of *The Grand Canal, Venice*-she'd seen it in their house before. She must have kept quiet about it, saving it for this very moment.

If Ines was her mentor, how could Jessica not be following Ines's recent exhibitions?

He realized, with a jolt, that he'd never truly understood his silent little wife.

So calculating. So composed.

For seven years, everything between them had been quiet and uneventful. He'd thought she was content being his dutiful, behind-the-scenes wife.

All because he hadn't taken her to that school event for parents and children.

That's when it started.

it hadn't

it was clear-she was no longer satisfied with being his secret

meant to force

closing

the air, as if a

No!" Jessica signed it out three times, emphatic and unyielding. Seven years. She

throw herself, warm and vulnerable, against the cold, unyielding wall that was Timothy

let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Fine. If you don't want a job, then you'll be Mrs. Lawson-show up, smile, follow my lead. And while you're at it, tell Ines you'll never be working. Oh, and

felt her heart shatter into

to go to

man have to be, to say something like

at him. "I'll do it. But you have to promise me

the edge still

if she had a reasonable request, he wasn't above granting it. He'd never withheld anything from her over

catching his eye, she'd become Mrs. Lawson, the

"Divorce."

the same steely

sharply, turning away. He pressed his tongue against his

later, he spun back to her,