Chapter 5 - The Queen’s Gambit
By Thursday evening, the illusion of the Cross family dynasty had completely unraveled.
Marjorie Cross had called my phone seventeen times, leaving hysterical, venomous voicemails demanding to know why her son had been fired, why their bank accounts had been frozen by federal injunctions, and why the leasing company had unceremoniously towed the leased BMW right out of their driveway.
I didn’t answer a single call. I simply blocked her number, along with Dorian’s sisters, cousins, and the various aunts who had spent years sending me cleaning supplies as Christmas gifts while laughing behind my back.
They were learning a very hard lesson about what happens when you mistake a quiet woman for a weak one.
Meanwhile, Wren and Iris were blissfully unaware of the corporate earthquake shaking downtown Minneapolis. They were sitting at the kitchen island in our Edina home, eating warm chocolate chip cookies and painting colorful pictures of unicorns on heavy cardstock paper, chatting happily about what we should plant in the backyard garden this spring.
The doorbell rang at precisely 6:00 PM.
I walked to the front door and pulled it open.
Standing on the porch was Dorian.
He looked unrecognizable. His designer suit was wrinkled, his hair was messy, and he carried a single plastic grocery bag containing a couple of changes of clothes. He had nowhere else to go; the Lake Minnetonka estate management had locked him out thirty-six hours ago, and his mother’s retirement community apartment had strict rules against long-term male guests crashing on the pull-out couch.
“Addie,” he whispered, his voice broken and hollow. “Can I... can I please come inside?”
I didn’t move. I stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance, my arms crossed lightly over my chest.
“You don’t live here, Dorian,” I said calmly.
“Addie, I’m your husband,” he pleaded, taking a half-step forward. “We’ve been married for eleven years! We built a life together!”
“No,” I corrected him, looking him dead in the eye. “I built a life. You rented one. And you made the fatal mistake of treating my daughters like second-class citizens in a kingdom that belonged to me.”
Dorian sank against the porch pillar, letting out a ragged, defeated sob that shook his entire frame.
“What am I going to do?” he muttered into his hands. “I lost my job. I’m facing federal wire fraud charges. My mother won’t stop screaming at me. I have nothing.”
“You have a court date on Monday,” I replied coldly, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a thick manila envelope. I tossed it onto the porch floor near his feet. “And inside that envelope, you’ll find the drafted divorce papers. Uncontested. Full custody of Wren and Iris to me, zero alimony, and a complete waiver of any claims against Meridian North Development or my personal assets.”
He looked down at the envelope as if it were a venomous snake.
“You’re... you’re taking everything from me?”
“I’m taking back what was mine all along,” I said. “You wanted to be the big man of the house, Dorian? Well, now you are completely free to provide for yourself.”
With that, I closed the front door, threw the deadbolt, and listened as the heavy brass mechanism clicked firmly into place.
I turned around, walked back into the kitchen, and smiled down at my daughters, who looked up from their paintings with bright, untroubled eyes.
May you like
“Mommy?” Iris asked, tilting her head. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is more than okay, sweethearts,” I said, kissing the top of each of their heads. “Everything is exactly the way it should be.”
