So I answered.
“Harrison?”
He inhaled sharply, like hearing my voice had punched the air out of him. “Where are you?”
“At dinner.”
A beat.
“With him?” The word came out like poison.
I took a sip of wine and let the silence answer for me.
His control cracked.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“Iris, listen to me.” He sounded different now. Less polished. More frantic. “The banks are overreacting. The board is panicking. If you reverse the withdrawal, I can fix this.”
I set my glass down. “Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Harrison.” My voice stayed calm. “You couldn’t fix your own quarterly reports without my spreadsheets. You couldn’t keep your father’s debt from burying the company. You couldn’t even keep your mistress out of my bed. What exactly do you think you’re capable of fixing?”
Across the table, Damien looked openly delighted.
Harrison lowered his voice, desperate now. “I made a mistake.”
“No. You made a choice.”
“Iris—”
“You called our marriage adequate service.”
He said nothing.
“You looked me in the eye, with my sister in our bed, and told me I was a placeholder.”
Still nothing.
I leaned back in my chair. “So here’s my answer. Fix it yourself.”
Then I hung up.
Damien tapped a finger against his wineglass. “That,” he said, “was deeply attractive.”
“Be careful.”
“Why?”
“I’m fresh off a divorce. I may be unstable.”
His smile turned slow and dangerous. “I certainly hope so.”
My phone buzzed once more.
This time it was from Mia.
The banks are here. They’re saying the house is under review. Harrison is losing his mind. What did you tell them?
Another one followed immediately.
Mom says the title is in Harrison’s name, so you can’t touch it.
I replied before I could overthink it.
The house was never the asset. I was.
Then I put my phone facedown and finished dessert.
The estate audit started at 8:17 p.m.
I watched part of it from the car on the way back.
Security footage showed exactly what I expected: Harrison pacing through the grand foyer, one hand in his hair, shouting at men who had no interest in his volume. Cynthia hovered behind him in a silk robe and pearls, outraged in the way only women who’d never paid their own electric bills could be. And Mia—
Mia stood halfway down the staircase in one of my robes, arms folded, face pale.
For a second, I almost pitied her.
Then she opened her mouth.
“I told you she was bluffing,” she snapped at Harrison. “You said she was nobody.”
Harrison spun toward her. “Because that’s what you said.”
She laughed, high and hysterical. “Don’t put this on me. You were the one stupid enough to believe it.”
“Get out,” he said.
She froze. “What?”
“Get out.”