But there stood her husband of twenty-eight years, looking annoyed that she’d had the nerve to enter her own home without calling first.

And just like that, she flipped back to angry. No. Not angry.

Mad. As. Hell.

“I wasn’t aware that I needed permission to enter my home,” Marina said.

“This is my home. My mother left it to me.”

“I think you might want to check with your attorney on that one. You can’t force me to leave simply because it’s inconvenient for you and your whore. I have rights, Harold. I’m so sorry that the three decades we’ve been together has placed such a burden on you.”

“This is not the way I wanted things to go.”

“Really? And just how did you think things would go when I found you in our bed with a girl practically your daughter’s age?”

Harold flushed and she could see his jaw clench. Clearly, he’d thought Marina was going to slink silently away, avoiding conflict as she always did. Making sure everyone else got what they wanted without regard to her own needs. Well, too bad for him. That Marina had died and gone the moment she saw him standing there in all his arrogance, questioning her for being there.

“Chastity is not part of this,” he said.

“Seemed like a big part yesterday. Unless there was a town vote and every man of maturity is required to sleep with her. Oh wait, every man of maturity has slept with her. I suppose you got sloppy eight-hundredths.”

He turned beet red and clenched his hands. Marina had never seen him this mad before, and now she simply couldn’t take it seriously. He looked like an angry, yapping dog. Ineffectual. Irrelevant. And mostly just annoying.

“I’m filing for divorce,” he said. “You cannot stay here.”

“I’ll be happy to go. Just as soon as you cough up some equity.”

“I don’t owe you any equity. This is my house. Inheritance is not marital property.”

“A judge might see the twenty-five years of salary I put into this place differently. Not to mention all the work I did without any help from you. I’d say that gives me an equity interest. Would you like to test that theory?”

“That’s blackmail.”

“No. That’s divorce. This is all on you, Harold. So either pony up some money or I’ll drag this and your indiscretions through the court system. Loudly. But first, I’ll tell my sad story of woe to the local newspaper. What will that do to your business, Harold? How many of your clients will remain with a man who makes a mockery of his wife with a girl not even half his age? And what will your daughter think? How many boyfriends did she lose to Chastity when she was in high school? She’ll be thrilled to know her parents are divorcing over her.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” he sputtered, but she could see the glimmer of fear in his eyes.

“Try me. Either I get some money or we both explode into the fiery pit of shame called bankruptcy. Your choice.”