I had not thought about her once in eighteen months. I had thought about the file, and about Hollis, and about my marriage, and never once about the thirty-year-old who wrote the paragraph.
She let me apologise and then she changed the subject to be kind to me, which I did not deserve and which I let her do.
Where things are.
The divorce was final in the September. The prenuptial agreement held, because my grandfather’s lawyers wrote it in 2019 and because I signed it in a room where somebody made me read all of it out loud.
He got what the schedule said he would get, which is not nothing and which is a great deal less than two hundred people in that ballroom assumed.
I took a board seat in the January. I had never had one in my life. I am thirty-eight years old and I had owned parts of eleven companies and never once sat in a room where the decisions got made, which — now that I have written that down — is an extraordinary thing to have arranged on purpose.
