The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

on's favorite, chosen specifically to match the suit he wore when they first met. The table w

k. It was eight-thirty

stood up, smoothing the front of her dress. It was a simple beige piece, someth

her bare arms. Jackson walked in. He didn't look at her. He dropped his keys

oftly. She walked toward him,

brushed past her hand, avoiding h

he dining room table without glancing at th

she dropped it to her side. She followed him into the

s eyes were empty. There was no anger, no an

at day it

e of the side table. The screen lit up. The

s thumb hovered over the screen, his expression softening into something pained and

ed into his leather briefcase and pulled out a thick Mani

to talk,"

it to know what it was. The air in the room seemed to v

er voice sounded like it w

er, imposing and distant. "The doctors say stress is a major factor. She nee

stress," C

years, Tina. We had an agreement. You knew this wasn't a

e clasped them together to stop the tremors. "I ran your

ina. You were an investment. A proprietary asset. But let's be honest-your designs, your input, they all belong to Floyd Enterpris

ed the

he terms ar

out the hum of the refrigerator in the distance. She looked at him, really loo

ckson. She's made my lif

she loves me. And I owe her my life

have to go. She's waiting

slippery in her sweating palm. She realized then that begging would only make

Divorce Decree. The wor

er name. Cri

d down and took the folder. He didn't che

o vacate," he said. He turned his

sary, Jackson,

hut. The lock enga

he view of Manhattan through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The

d on her ring finger. It slid off easily. She placed it on

cket. She pulled it out. A

t forget to l

ace with the back of her hand. The sadness in her chest began to harden into