Chapter 6: Mark

I see Violetta the moment I step out of my car.

For two days, I have listened to people tell me that she needs time to calm down, that she is angry, and that I should give her space. I knew better. Violetta has always been emotional when she feels betrayed, but she has never known how to stay away from the life she built with me for very long.

I watch her cross the pavement toward the entrance of the law office, carrying a leather folder against her chest. She looks different from the woman who walked out of our house two days ago, but the sight of her here gives me a strange sense of satisfaction.

I knew she would come back but I never would have thought it would take only two days. Straightening my jacket, I walk toward her before she reaches the entrance. “Violetta.” She stops when she hears my voice and turns toward me. My lips break into a smile because I expect the sight of me to affect her. “I was beginning to wonder how long you intended to keep this up.” She says nothing. I glance at the folder in her hands before looking back at her. “You could have saved yourself all this trouble by coming home.”

Her expression remains calm, which I interpret as stubbornness rather than indifference. “I am willing to overlook what happened,” I continue. “You've been angry, and I understand that. But this has gone far enough. The company is dealing with enough problems without you making things worse.” She watches me without answering but I continue anyway. “I need you to make a statement to the press,” I tell her. “You can say the rumors are false and that we are dealing with a private disagreement. Once everything settles down, we can discuss what happens next.”

She scoffs, crossing her hands over her chest before she finally speaks. “I'm here to meet my divorce attorney.”

For a moment, I simply look at her. Then I laugh softly because I assume she is still playing the same game she started when she threw those papers at me. “You're still doing this?”

She shifts the folder against her chest. “I have an appointment.”

“I know you have an appointment. I also know why you're here.” I step closer and lower my voice. “You want me to panic. You want me to chase you and beg you to come back. Your mother warned me you would do exactly that.”

Something changes in her eyes when I mention her mother, but it disappears so quickly that I barely notice it. “I don't need you to beg me for anything,” she says.

I study her face. She sounds remarkably convincing. For a moment, I understand why someone might believe her, but I have known Violetta for five years. I know how she behaves when she wants something. She can be stubborn for days, but eventually she expects me to be the one who gives in but I refuse to play that role this time. “If you cooperate with me, things can still be handled quietly,” I tell her. “Make the statement, wear your ring, and stop feeding the rumors. If you do that, I might even allow you to return to the apartment.” Her eyebrows lift slightly but I continue before she can answer. “You know what you have there. You don't need to throw away five years because you're angry.”

She looks at me for several seconds then she says, “I don't want to return to the apartment.”

I feel irritation rise in my chest. “You don't mean that.” She ignores me and turns toward the entrance. I catch her with one last question. “Where are you staying?” She does not answer. “Violetta.” She keeps walking. I remain outside as the glass doors close behind her.

For several seconds, I stare at my reflection in the glass and try to understand why she is insisting on dragging the divorce this far. My mother-in-law's words return to me from two nights ago. Violetta will do everything she can to make me cave first, she had said. She will push until you offer her exactly what she wants. That has to be what this is.

Violetta knows the rumors have damaged my reputation, and she knows I need her beside me. She is trying to use that against me. I take out my phone and call my lawyer. “Where are you?” I ask when he answers.

“At the office.”

“Has Violetta's lawyer contacted you?”

There is a pause. “Yes.”

“What does she want?”

“They have requested additional documentation concerning the marital assets.”

I look through the glass doors toward the hallway where Violetta disappeared. “What documentation?”

“The ownership records for several properties, the vehicle registrations, investment records, and some insurance documents.”

My expression hardens. “Have they said why?”

“They say they are conducting a full review before proceeding with the divorce.”

I look toward the road. “Did they say what prompted the review?”

“No.”

I grip the phone more tightly. “Do you have the records?”

“We have copies of most of them.”

“Most?”

“We may need the originals for some of the properties.” I say nothing. My lawyer continues, “There are a few files that aren't in our current office records.”

“Which ones?”

“I'll need to check.”

“Check now.”

He agrees and ends the call. I remain outside the building for another minute before returning to my car. The request for original documents bothers me more than I want to admit, but I force myself to dismiss it. Divorce lawyers always ask for paperwork. Violetta has probably been told that she needs documents to make her case, and now she is collecting everything she can find.

That is all. I get into the car and call Nolan. “What's happening at the office?”

“The board meeting is still scheduled for this afternoon.”

“And the press?”

“They're waiting for a statement.”

“They'll get one.”

“Sir, are you sure?”

“I'll deal with it after the meeting.”

I end the call and drive back toward the office. The moment I enter my building, Nolan follows me toward the elevator with a folder in his hands. “The board wants reassurance that the situation at home won't affect the company.”

“My marriage has nothing to do with the company's finances.”

“I know, but they're concerned about public perception.”

“They'll get their reassurance.”

The elevator doors open, and we step inside.

Nolan hesitates before asking, “Is Mrs. Leonard returning home?”

I glance at him. “Eventually.”

He nods, though his expression suggests he does not entirely believe me but I ignore it. By the time I reach my office, my lawyer has called again. “I found the list,” he says.

“And?”

“The documents missing from our files include the original registration records for the apartment, several investment properties, and two insurance policies.”

I sit behind my desk. “Where are they supposed to be?”

“We have copies.”

“I know that. I'm asking about the originals.”

“I don't know.”

I lean back in my chair. “Then find out.”

“I'll make inquiries.”

“No. I want them today.”

He hesitates. “Mr. Leonard, if Violetta's lawyer has already started requesting the originals, we need to be careful about how we respond.”

My eyes narrow. “Why should we do that?”

“Because if they have found inconsistencies between the copies and the official records, the originals will become important.”

The room seems to become quieter. “What inconsistencies are you speculating?”

“I said if.” I stare at the papers on my desk as my lawyer continues, “I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I'm simply saying that we should make sure we know exactly what documents they have before we provide anything else.”

I end the call and for the first time since seeing Violetta outside the law office, I feel something other than irritation. I know exactly what the originals contain. There is nothing for Violetta to find if she never gets them. The copies she has seen over the years tell the story I wanted her to believe. They show the apartment as part of our marriage, the investments as things we acquired together, and the various assets as part of the life we built jointly. The originals tell a different story. I push my chair back and stand.

I have trusted the arrangements for years because the originals were never kept in places where Violetta could casually stumble across them. Some were with lawyers, some with financial institutions, and some were kept in the document box at the house and that box is the problem. I pick up my phone and call home.

Her mother, Vivienne answers after the second ring. “Mark”

“Where are you?”

“At the house.”

“Have you seen Violetta?”

“She hasn't returned.”

I walk toward the window. “When she comes make sure she doesn't take anything from the study. Actually, find a blue box and bring it to me.”

There is a brief silence. “Alright."

I end the call and immediately regret making the request over the phone. If Violetta's lawyer has already discovered the discrepancy, the last thing I need is for Vivienne to make a mistake. My phone rings again before I can call her back. It is my lawyer. “The board meeting begins in twenty minutes,” he says. “We need to discuss how we're going to respond to the divorce.”

“Tell them Violetta is acting emotionally and that we are handling the matter privately.”

“That's what you want me to say?”

“Yes.”

“And if they ask whether the divorce is proceeding?”

I look at the divorce papers lying in the drawer of my desk. “Tell them nothing has been finalized.”

“Understood.”

I end the call and sit down again. My office door opens a few minutes later, and Nolan steps inside. “Sir, your mother-in-law is here.” I look up. “Send her in.”

Vivienne enters carrying her handbag, and the moment the door closes behind her, I ask, “Did you find the box?”

Her expression tightens. “Yes. But I've left it with Nolan.”

“Did you check it and confirmed everything is inside?”

She looks at me for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

I stand. “Bring it to me.”