Willing to Be the Dawn, Not the Dusk Clouds

I canceled the supplementary card my husband had given his little girl on the side. Again.

She couldn't pay for her luxury shopping.

The call went straight to Vincent Sanchez.

I expected him to do what he always did.

Call me, smooth it over, tell me not to stoop to a girl's level.

Instead, he slid an agreement across the table to me himself.

"You've had enough years of playing the one in control. Starting today, we keep our finances separate."

"After all, I'm not the broke nobody I used to be. I don't need you anymore."

"As for that card, cancel it all you want. I've already gotten her a new one."

I looked at the agreement meant to draw a clean line between us, and I laughed, cold.

"And if I refuse?"

Vincent stayed just as cool and remote, and pulled out a second document. A divorce agreement.

"Then we divorce."

I reached out and tore the agreement to shreds. "You should understand one thing."

"Whoever pays is the one who calls the shots."

Everything he had, he owed to me. And now that he'd made it, made his name.

He wanted to kick me aside.

Where did he get the nerve to think it would be that easy?

Vincent watched me warily. "What are you trying to do?"

I didn't answer. I turned and had them tie up his little girl.

"Vincent, save me!"

The girl was like a startled bird, hands and feet bound.

The skirt of her dress fluttered up in the wind.

I watched Debbie Pruitt call out, all soft and helpless.

I clicked my tongue.

"No wonder she's got Vincent wrapped around her finger. Truly the kind you can't help but pity."

"Pity is, I've seen plenty of women like you, and they usually don't end well."

My father was always a philanderer.

In my earliest memories, he brought home more women than I could count.

And my mother had a way of dealing with them, an iron hand that left every one of them meek and obedient.

Not a single one dared show up and challenge her.

Now, following my mother's example, I meant to make this girl suffer a little.

But Debbie was young, full of energy, and her screaming gave me a real headache.

"You old woman, let me go!"

"You couldn't win Vincent's heart, so you tie me up and torture me? What kind of power is that?"

I smiled and stood.

"You think I came here as the wife, to teach you a lesson as the mistress?"

"You're wrong."

"I came as your creditor, to collect a debt."

Let me do the math for her.

"All these years, how much of my money have you spent? Should I get a lawyer to add it up for you?"

"If you don't pay it back, I can charge you with robbery."

The girl's face went white in an instant.

She'd taken that card five times alone.

Every time I canceled it, Vincent turned around and got her a new one.

Before I came, I'd done a rough tally.

The money charged through Debbie ran fifty million, maybe eighty.

"How could I be spending your money? It was Vincent's. He gave it to me."

Debbie kept her neck stiff, stubborn as ever.

I scoffed.

"But his money is money I gave him. You didn't know that?"

She knew perfectly well that from the very start, Vincent had married into my family with nothing.

Dirt poor, not a thing to his name.

I was the one who gave him his first pot of money to start his company.

I was the one who reached out when he hit a cash crisis.

Even the lucky cat in his office wore my face on it.

Everyone knew the company he built with his own hands, Mason Group, carried my name in its very name.

But now Debbie bit down hard on her lip, refusing to admit it.

"You're lying!"

"That was between the two of you, before. But now he's the CEO of the group. He said the money he gave me is all clean, money he earned himself."

What a joke. Even the supplementary card he gave her was one I'd set up.

I could cancel it whenever I liked.

Clean, my foot.

But the next second, the girl lifted her chin.

"If you don't believe me, look at the bank card in my bag. It's got his name on it. My bag's right there."

I turned toward the bag on the wooden chair.

I pulled the card out.

The moment I saw the face of that bank card, my heart dropped.

I recognized it. I'd been there when Vincent opened this account.

He'd said he was going to save into it, that it would be the childcare fund for our future child.

By the start of the year it had already reached fifty million.

He'd said our child would be born into an easy life.

That even if the kid turned out slow at school, it wouldn't matter.

That the child would never even have to work a day, would want for nothing, would just live happily.

And now he'd handed that card to Debbie.

The blood rushed to my head. I grabbed the fruit knife beside me and walked toward Debbie.

"I'd love to hear you tell me."

"What exactly is your talent, to make him hand over even this?"

Debbie's little face went white with fear. Before she could get a word out.

A sharp voice cut in from behind me.

"Stop!"

Vincent strode over, his face dark.

Shelagh, stop making a scene.

That money was mine to give her, and the card too. If you've got a problem, come at me.

Then he saw Debbie tied up over there, and his face went darker still.

I tightened my grip on the fruit knife and swung it across his throat instead.

You're right, I should come at you.

Vincent, this mess you've made, and everything you owe me, can you ever pay it back?

Vincent looked at me and said nothing.

We stayed like that a long time before he finally sighed.

All this trouble, and it still comes down to you not agreeing to the divorce?

He gave a soft laugh and closed his hand over mine, sure of himself.

If you don't want the divorce, then we won't divorce.

After all, the separate finances were only me letting you know, only a reminder.

Just stop interfering in what's between me and her.

That way, when we go home, we're still a loving, happy couple.

I watched Vincent's mouth open and close.

I couldn't understand how he could get words that shameless out of his mouth.

I ground my teeth. In your dreams.

The tip of the knife pressed a little closer to his throat, and a thread of red seeped out.

Vincent, have you climbed so high you've forgotten the road that got you here?

The smile on Vincent's face dimmed a shade.

Of course he hadn't forgotten.

Back then he was the poor kid everyone pushed around, couldn't even afford a meal.

Couldn't afford a school uniform.

It was me. I went soft over that cold, broken look he carried.

The uniform he couldn't buy, I bought.

The meals he couldn't afford, I paid for.

He wanted to start a business and had no capital, so I gave it to him.

Later I threw myself in too, and became his wife.

He knew exactly how much it took to get to where he was today.

So more than once he'd knelt in front of me, eyes red, swearing to the heavens.

My good wife lifted me to my highest ambitions. I will never fail her as long as I live.

But he forgot where he came from, and he forgot what I'd done for him.

He turned around and found himself a young girl.

And had the nerve to say, She isn't domineering the way you are. Only she can stir up my urge to protect someone.

Shelagh, you're too strong.

You've never once needed me to protect you.

In that moment, I felt like a joke.

My best friend's warning came back to me, right at my ear.

Shelagh, you idiot! I warned you long ago. Don't go soft on a man, don't help a man, or you'll pay for it.

Look how much you've given him. You think he'll spare you a single kind thought?

You're like a blind man's cane. The first thing he does when he can see again is throw the cane away, and he even treats you as a disgrace.

I hadn't believed her before. I even argued back.

Vincent isn't that kind of man.

I have faith in him.

But now he was pushing me away, hurrying over to the girl, gently untying her.

He checked her over carefully to make sure she wasn't hurt, then pulled her into his arms.

Vincent, you finally came. I thought I was going to die at this old woman's hands and never see you again!

Debbie sniveled against his chest.

The next second, Vincent lifted his eyes, cold.

Shelagh, after all these years, you still haven't learned to turn a blind eye?

I told you last time, no more canceling cards to threaten me.

And stop digging into Debbie's business. This time you started it.

I had never felt so powerless.

My mother only ever told me I had to keep the upper hand over women like her, never let a mistress squat on my head.

But my mother never told me.

What was I supposed to do.

If the man stood on the mistress's side too.

I didn't want to turn myself into a madwoman, a shrew.

So I stayed silent, for a long time.

But this time, Vincent was truly angry.

Shelagh, however you act out at home, I let it slide.

But there's one thing you should never have done.

You should never have tied Debbie up behind my back.

Hurting the girl he loved, he said, came with a price.

So without a moment's hesitation, he called the police.

Vincent, what did you say?

The fruit knife slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.

Bright red blood ran down his throat and into his collar.

Vincent didn't so much as blink.

Shelagh, I didn't want to make things hard for you, but you just won't listen.

This time, consider it a lesson.

When the police hauled me away, I was so furious I screamed at him.

"Vincent Sanchez, have you no shame?"

"Back when you were cornered, you couldn't even scrape together three thousand dollars for a hospital bill. I paid, I worked, and that's the only reason you're standing where you are today."

"And now you think I'm old, so you go chasing after some young thing and want to kick me to the curb!"

"Dream on!"

If I was going down, I was dragging Vincent Sanchez down with me.

But he just let me rage and never once looked back.

Like a prince slipping the glass slipper onto a princess.

Gently, carefully, he fit the diamond-studded heel onto Debbie Pruitt's foot.

"Debbie, don't be scared. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I'll make Shelagh Mason suffer for it. She'll pay."

Then he lifted her up and put her in the passenger seat that should have been mine.

As I was shoved into the police car, the last thing I saw

was Debbie Pruitt flashing me a smug little smile.

They lectured me in the interrogation room.

"Why the kidnapping?"

I kept my head down. "She stole my money."

"Stole your money? Then why not call the police?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Because my husband was in on it."

By the end of the questioning, they ruled it a civil dispute born of a domestic falling-out.

"Ms. Mason, if you want to recover marital property, you can take it through the courts."

"But next time, don't use such reckless, heavy-handed methods."

It went in one ear and out the other.

In the end it was my best friend, Leah Farley, who bailed me out.

"How did it blow up this badly?"

Leah asked, curious, while she drove.

"You always used to say something and Vincent Sanchez would listen."

"What happened this time?"

I shook my head and slumped back against the seat.

I didn't even have the will to explain.

I couldn't understand where I'd lost.

He was the one who said it. Grow old together.

Even after my face was scarred, he never held it against me.

I couldn't believe he'd suddenly change his heart

just because I was getting older, my looks fading.

"Leah, I can't figure out what that girl has that's better than me."

"He stays out night after night, hands his money to some other woman."

"No matter how bad it got before, he never once mentioned divorce."

"But now he's grown some backbone, and he actually brought up divorce with me."

Leah glanced back at me, startled, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Honestly? You're better off divorced."

I said nothing. After all these years as friends, she knew I couldn't accept it.

"I'm not defending Vincent Sanchez."

"But you two have already come this far. This marriage is a shell. There's no point forcing it to keep going."

"Besides, an ungrateful stray you'll never win over. Are you sure you still want him?"

Back home, I turned Leah's words over carefully.

But before I could sort them out, the private investigator I'd hired brought a bombshell.

"What did you say? Debbie Pruitt is... pregnant?"

I sat back down with a bitter laugh.

"Of course. Young girls, always in such good health."

"No wonder Vincent Sanchez would rather divorce me than give her up."

The one thing Vincent Sanchez hated most in this world was an illegitimate child.

Because he was one himself, the product of some man's careless one-night stand.

He grew up like an orphan.

Even after that man took him back, he kept a knot of pride buried in his chest and would rather die than acknowledge the family name.

That's why more than once he held me and said,

"Let's have a child."

"Give the child a whole, complete family."

But later he forgot the words he'd spoken with his own mouth.

He fell for some girl out there like a man gone mad.

And got her pregnant.

That night, Vincent Sanchez came home worn out and found me curled up on the couch in the dark.

"Why aren't the lights on?"

I didn't look up. "Vincent Sanchez, let's talk."

After I turned on the light,

there was a home-purchase contract laid out in front of me, worth twenty million dollars.

A new gift Vincent Sanchez had bought for Debbie Pruitt.

"Tell me. Why?"

Vincent Sanchez was silent for a long time.

"Since you already know, there's no point hiding it from you."

"Because Debbie is worth it."

I was struck dumb, and then it hit me and I laughed in disbelief.

"So you live in my villa, drive my luxury car, spend my money"

"and all of it is because I'm not worth it?"

Six years of marriage, and the times Vincent Sanchez spent his money on me could be counted on one hand.

He always said I was too capable, too strong, that I was his model, his compass.

Always said that once he was worth a fortune, he'd shield me from every storm.

But he grew into a towering tree, and then went off to shelter some other girl.

Faced with my questions, all he said, with a clear conscience, was that she was worth it.

"Don't cry."

He pulled out a tissue and wiped my tears away, light and unbothered.

"It's not that you're not worth it, Shelagh. You've always been wonderful, brilliant. You're the powerhouse I've always admired."

"It's just that Debbie is pregnant."

As he spoke, he pushed the divorce papers back in front of me again.

"So let's get divorced."

I stared at the divorce papers he'd prepared in advance, frozen.

Vincent's voice came down from above me.

"Shelagh, you and I have been married six years."

"You know how much I've been hoping for this baby."

His face was a picture of anguish. "You know how badly I don't want this child to grow up a bastard."

I gave a cold laugh and slapped him across the face.

"If you know that, then why bring this piece of filth into the world at all?"

"Vincent, you disgust me."

His head snapped to the side from the blow.

He didn't argue.

"I'm keeping this child, no matter what."

"Shelagh, you're too domineering. Being with you, I never feel any warmth."

"Haven't you ever noticed that our five-thousand-square-foot house feels like some giant office building? Nothing like a home at all."

"It's only in Debbie's little thousand-square-foot apartment."

"that I feel like I'm home."

Six years. Six years I spent drinking through business dinners until my stomach bled, half killing myself to earn that big house.

And Vincent told me it wasn't as warm as Debbie's little apartment.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Fine. Have it your way."

"We'll divorce."

Hearing that I'd finally given in and agreed to the divorce.

Vincent froze.

"Really?"

He said it carefully, half expecting a trick, or that I was joking.

Only when he saw how serious my face was did he finally let out a breath.

"Shelagh, I knew you always understood me. You've always been level-headed."

"Divorcing you is only to give the baby in Debbie's belly a proper name."

"Even without that certificate."

"we're still husband and wife. Of course, if it bothers you, we can be friends instead."

Before he left, he patted my shoulder and even had the thoughtfulness to add a word of advice.

"I know you've been lonely all these years."

"If you can't stand it, you could find someone else. Someone younger, more attentive."

"I wouldn't mind."

I opened my eyes and drew back from his reaching hand. "That won't be any of your concern."

Vincent knew perfectly well how much I'd given up for my career.

Apart from him, there had never been room in my eyes for any other man.

He was only confident enough to say something like that because he wanted to twist the knife.

But what he didn't know was that this time.

I would never look for another man who'd only scheme against me.

And the Mason Group he'd built with his own hands.

was finished too.

Vincent took the signed divorce papers and left, exactly as he'd wanted.

From that day on, a clear change came over me too.

I stopped clinging to Debbie the way I always had.

Stopped trying to make her suffer just to feel a little better myself.

So when Vincent opened a new flower shop for Debbie.

I didn't rush over to wreck the place the way I once would have.

I didn't do what I'd threatened out loud, either.

Didn't string up a banner reading something like "Debbie Pruitt is a mistress" to strip away every shred of her face.

I'd simply come to terms with it, and let Vincent go.

I shut myself in my room for a whole day.

Shed the powerhouse-queen-of-the-boardroom shell.

Put on a face mask like any ordinary girl, binged a show.

Ordered the crawfish boil I love, turned off my phone, and enjoyed one ordinary day.

I just didn't expect that at night, Vincent would come storming in, kicking the door open in a rage.

"Shelagh! I actually thought you'd learned to change. Why would you wreck the event like that and humiliate Debbie?"