She Took My Money, Not My Soul

---- Chapter 4 | was halfway to my truck when she came running out of the apartment building, her face streaked with tears. "You can't just leave!" she yelled, grabbing my arm. | shook her off. "Watch me." "You're the one who cheated!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the parking lot. A few neighbors peeked out their windows. | stopped and turned around slowly. "What did you just say?" "| know you did!" she sobbed. "On that rig! All those men! You think I'm stupid?

You were probably with someone else this whole time and you're just using this as an excuse!" The accusation was so ridiculous, so completely insane, it was almost funny. Almost. "You're accusing me of cheating?" | said, my voice dangerously calm. "You, who | just found playing house with Wesley Clark? You, who's been giving him my money? You want to go down this road, Gabrielle?" Her face crumpled. She knew she had nothing. "I've been on a floating metal box in the middle of the ocean ---- for three years, Gabrielle. There's a log of every person who comes on and off that rig.

My life for the past 1,095 days is an open book. Can you say the same about yours?" She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. "Here's what's going to happen," | said, laying it out for her. "You're going to get a lawyer. I'm going to get a lawyer. And we are going to get a divorce. If you try to fight me, if you try to lie, | will bring up your adultery in court. | will subpoena your phone records, your bank statements, everything. And you will walk away with nothing. Do you understand me?" She just stood there, shivering, looking pathetic and small.

The fight was gone. All that was left was the wreckage.