Page 95 of The Humiliated Wife

“Thanks for stopping by,” her lawyer said, shuffling through files with the efficient weariness of someone who'd been doing this job too long. "I wanted to go over your husband's latest response before we move forward."

Ex-husband,Fiona corrected silently, though the words still felt foreign in her mind.

"He's not backing down on the financial terms," the woman continued, pulling out a thick stack of papers. "In fact, his team sent over additional documentation. He wants to establish a trust."

Fiona's stomach flipped—not with dread, but with something that felt dangerously close to relief. "A trust?"

"For your long-term security. The apartment transfer, the income sharing—he wants it all legally protected. Irrevocable." She looked up over her reading glasses. "Honey, this man is trying to make sure you never have to worry about money again."

The words washed over her like warm water. Never worry about money again. No more 6 AM spreadsheets. No more choosing between rent and groceries. No more panic attacks in grocery store parking lots.

No more being afraid.

"What exactly does that mean?" Fiona asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

"It means you'd have the apartment—no mortgage, no rent. It means a monthly income for life. Enough to live comfortably, pursue whatever you want. Go back to school, travel, focus on teaching without worrying about your salary covering everything."

Fiona closed her eyes. She could picture it—the apartment she'd loved, the one with the crown molding Dean was so proud of and the kitchen where they'd cooked together on Sunday mornings. Security. Stability. The kind of safety net she'd never had growing up.

The kind of protection she'd felt in Dean's arms just nights ago on Emma's porch.

"Does that make me weak?" she whispered, more to herself than to her lawyer.

"What?"

Fiona opened her eyes. "Wanting it. Wanting him to... take care of me."

Her lawyer's expression softened. "Sweetie, wanting security isn't weakness. It's human."

But that wasn't really what she meant, and they both probably knew it. It wasn't just the money she wanted—though God, she wanted the money, wanted to never feel that sick panic of not having enough ever again.

It was thatDeanwas the one offering it. Dean, who knew exactly how much her monthly expenses were because he'd been paying them for two years. Dean, who understood that she worried about money because she'd grown up without it. Dean, who was still trying to be her safe place even after she'd left him.

Even after he'd lost the right to be.

"What if I said yes?" she asked quietly. "To all of it?"

"Then you'd be set for life," her lawyer said simply. "And you'd be accepting what a lot of people would consider very generous terms from someone who clearly still cares about your wellbeing."

Fiona stared down at the papers, at the numbers that represented a kind of security she'd never dreamed of having.

It would mean Dean was still taking care of her. Still looking out for her. Still making sure she was safe and provided for, the way he used to do with coffee in bed and surprise shortbread and arms that felt like home.

Maybe that did make her weak.

Maybe she didn't care.

"He wants to what?"Emma nearly choked on her wine, setting the glass down hard enough to slosh red onto the kitchen table.

Fiona pulled her legs up under herself on the couch, wrapping the throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Move out this weekend. His lawyer called mine today. He's already started packing."

"The apartment he's owned forever?"

"That's the one." Fiona's voice was small. "He wants me to have it. No strings attached."

Emma stared at her, mouth slightly open. "Jesus, Fi. That's..."

"Crazy?"