CHAPTER ELEVEN: JESSICA’S VERSION

Jessica and I met in Paul’s conference room three weeks after the Friday I came home early.
She arrived with her own attorney, a composed woman named Hannah Wells.
The table held bottled water, legal pads, and a box of tissues nobody wanted to acknowledge.
I had asked for the meeting because I wanted a realistic temporary separation agreement.
Jessica looked thinner.
She wore a navy blouse I had once told her looked beautiful against her eyes.
The memory arrived uninvited and made me angry at myself.
Hannah began by discussing the house, shared expenses, and bank accounts.
Both attorneys kept the conversation structured.
We agreed not to withdraw unusual amounts from joint funds and to document ongoing household costs.
Then Jessica asked for a few minutes to speak directly to me with both attorneys present.


“I want you to know how this started,” she said.
I looked at Paul, who nodded slightly.
“Go ahead,” I answered.
“Richard gave me responsibility for a launch campaign when the director above me resigned,” Jessica began.
“I worked late because I wanted the promotion.”
She twisted a tissue in her hands.
“He started telling me I was the only person at the company who understood him.”
I kept my eyes on her.
“He complained that Caroline was controlling and that their marriage had been over for years,” she said.
“He told me they had agreed to see other people.”
“Did you ever ask Caroline?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you ever ask me whether our marriage was over?”
She lowered her head.
“No.”
“That is the part you can’t blame on him,”

I said.
Tears slid down her face.
“I know.”
She said the affair began after a company retreat and grew into a secret routine of dinners, hotel rooms, and messages hidden behind work conversations.
Richard had promised that once his divorce was finalized they could stop hiding.
She had believed him even after he postponed the promised conversation repeatedly.
Then he began asking her to revise slides whose numbers did not match the source reports.
“When I questioned him, he said I had to trust him if I cared about our future,” Jessica said.
“Did you know the numbers were wrong?” I asked.
“I knew some of them didn’t match.”
“Then why did you send the presentations?”
“Because I was afraid he’d leave me and take my job,” she answered.
Her candor hurt more than another excuse would have.
She had risked our marriage, her career, and other people’s money because she wanted a future with a man who frightened her.
Hannah placed a hand near Jessica’s legal pad.
“We have provided the relevant records through appropriate counsel,” she said.
“We are not going to litigate those facts in this meeting.”
I nodded.
Jessica looked at me again.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she said.
“I want you to know I finally stopped taking his calls.”
I believed that she had stopped.
I did not believe it repaired what she had done.
“I appreciate you telling me,” I replied.
“But I am continuing with the divorce.”
She shut her eyes for a second.
Then she nodded.
There was no shouting and no dramatic walkout.
The two attorneys returned to the agreement, and the meeting ended with signatures and a date for further disclosures.
When Jessica left, I stayed in the room until my hands stopped shaking.
Paul closed his folder.
“That was difficult,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You kept the conversation productive.”
“I feel terrible,” I admitted.
“Both things can be true,” he said.