Page 164 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” he agrees. “But ask yourself this. Are you not fighting for her because you truly believe she’s better off without you? Or because you’re afraid totry?Afraid tofail?”

The question hits too close to home. I stand, unsteady from the wine and the confrontation.

“I should go,” I say.

“Dom,” Nico calls as I reach the door. I turn back. “I release you from your guilt. If that means anything.”

It’s not that simple, and we both know it. Years of damage can’t be undone in one drunken afternoon. But it’s a start.

“I’ll call you,” I say, and I mean it.

Outside, Jake takes one look at my bloody shirt and bruised face and sighs. “Hospital, sir?”

“No,” I say. “The office.”

I have annulment papers to burn.

44

Dominic

Ididn’t burn the annulment papers. And I didn’t go to work. I decided to take a trip down to Martha’s Vineyard and just unwind and forget about everything.

The sprawling oceanfront property should have been restorative. The crash of waves against the rocky shoreline, the salt air, the isolation. But solitude only amplified my thoughts. I spent the entire weekend pacing across the weathered deck of my vacation home, barely noticing the spectacular view as my injured side throbbed, my mind fixed on Tatiana’s elegant signature on the annulment papers sitting unsigned on my desk back in Manhattan.

Yes, three days of coastal isolation did nothing but confirm what I already knew.

How catastrophically I had failed her.

And how much I love her.

It’s Monday morning now. Three days since she walked out. Three days of silence. Three days of knowing exactly how badly I fucked up.

I stand in my office, looking out over Manhattan.

The settlement papers for Tatiana sit next to the annulment documents on my desk, both awaiting my signature.

I pick up the settlement folder. At least I can do one thing right. She deserves every penny and more.

My phone rings. Arthur Sterling.

“Have you signed the annulment papers yet?” he asks without preamble when I answer.

“No.”

“Dominic,” he says, his voice carefully neutral. “The longer we delay, the more complicated this becomes. The press is already speculating. We need to control the narrative.”

“Process her settlement payment,” I tell him. “Immediately. Don’t wait for the annulment to clear.”

“But the agreement states that the payment is contingent upon the annul—”

“I don’t give a fuck what the agreement states. Process it today.Now.”

A pause. “Very well. And the papers?”

I glance at them on my desk. “I’ll get to them.”

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