Chapter 10 - THE DIVORCE THAT COST HER NOTHING
The divorce took four months.
Ronan fought over nothing.
That surprised everyone except Mara.
He gave Naomi full disclosure before discovery requests were issued.
He waived claims against Mara’s premarital founder shares.
He accepted a fair division of marital property.
He kept his personal investment accounts and a lake house.
Mara kept the Chicago apartment until she sold it three weeks later.
Neither wanted it.
The kitchen tile at 2:43 A.M. belonged to a life that had already ended.
At the final hearing, the judge asked whether reconciliation was possible.
Ronan looked at Mara.
“No.”
She appreciated that he answered first.
Afterward, they stood in the courthouse hallway.
Fifteen years together.
Finished with signatures.
Ronan looked older.
“I used to think the worst thing I could lose was Ellison House.”
Mara said nothing.
“I was wrong.”
“You lost me before the company.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
I know.
Too late.
But true.
He handed her a small box.
Mara’s expression hardened.
“I don’t want gifts.”
“It’s yours.”
Inside was her mother’s fountain pen.
Mara had thought it lost years earlier.
“Where did you find this?”
“Back of my desk drawer.”
Her throat tightened.
Ronan smiled sadly.
“She gave it to you when Ellison House signed the Palmer Hotel contract.”
“I remember.”
“So do I.”
He stepped back.
“I hope the company becomes everything you meant it to be.”
Mara looked at him.
“And you?”
He laughed without humor.
“I’m trying to figure out who I am when nobody needs me to be important.”
That might be the first useful thing he had ever said about himself.
They parted without hugging.
Some endings deserved honesty more than tenderness.
Outside the courthouse, Grant waited near the steps.
Not for her.
Technically.
He was there because the fraud case still had open civil matters.
“Free woman?” he asked.
“Legally.”
“How does it feel?”
“Expensive.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
They walked toward the street.
Grant had never flirted with her during the investigation.
Never touched her unnecessarily.
Never treated vulnerability as an invitation.
Mara noticed all of it.
That frightened her slightly.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“I’m evaluating your risk profile.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
A black car pulled up.
Grant opened the door for her.
Then stopped.
“I should tell you something before the case formally closes.”
Mara raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not asking you out.”
“That sounded promising until the last word.”
His mouth curved.
“I’m telling you that once I am no longer counsel to the independent committee, I would like to.”
Mara stared.
Grant continued.
“You can say no.”
“Good.”
“You can say not yet.”
“Better.”
“And I will not manufacture a fever.”
She laughed.
Really laughed.
For the first time in months.
Then her phone rang.
Charles Winslow.
“Mara, we need you back at headquarters.”
“Why?”
“The board voted.”
“On what?”
There was a pause.
“CEO.”
Mara stopped smiling.
She had expected to remain executive chair temporarily.
Not this.
Charles continued.
“Unanimous.”
Mara looked toward the skyline.
For years, Ronan had stood on stages representing the company she created.
Now Ellison House wanted its founder back.
May you like
Not as somebody’s wife.
As its chief executive.
