I stared at the refrigerator.
A grocery list was still attached with a little red magnet.
Milk.
Eggs.
Coffee.
Meanwhile, my former husband had apparently been using my machines to make his company look wealthier than it was.
“Did he forge anything?”
“We don’t know.
The bank is investigating.
Don’t contact him about it.”
I didn’t.
But Grant contacted me.
At 11:26 that night.
“Elise, please.
I need a hundred thousand dollars.”
I sat upright.
“For what?”
“Payroll.
Suppliers.
Just until I get financing.”
“Grant, the bank already declined your request.”
“Then loan it personally.”
I almost laughed.
He had spent five years telling his parents I was a useless housewife.
Now he wanted the useless housewife to write a six-figure check.
“No.”
“Are you seriously going to let everything collapse?”
“You told me it was your company.”
“It is!”
“Then run it.”
He went silent.
A long silence.
Then he whispered, “Kenzie says you’re doing this because you’re jealous.”
That did make me laugh.
“Kenzie should probably focus on finding a new job.”
I ended the call.
The following Monday, Lorraine and Dennis appeared at Simon’s office demanding a meeting.
Simon invited them into a conference room.
I attended because I wanted this finished.
Lorraine wore the same pearl necklace she’d worn during my humiliation.
But there was no smile now.
“Elise, we may have been unkind,” she began.
“Unkind?”
Dennis cleared his throat.
“Let’s not argue over words.”
I looked at him.
“You told me I was worthless because I hadn’t given your son a child.”
He stared at the table.
Lorraine squeezed her handbag.
“We were upset.”
“You were celebrating.”
She started crying.
Not when she’d hurt me.
Not when her son cheated.
Only when his money disappeared.
“Please,” she whispered.
“He could lose everything.”
I leaned forward.
“Then tell him to stop blaming me and start dealing with his creditors.”
Dennis suddenly slammed his hand on the table.
“After all we’ve done for you!”
Simon spoke before I could.
“Mr.
Barlow, this meeting is over.”
They left without another word.
Two weeks later, Grant’s company stopped operating.
The remaining employees were laid off.
Luis called to tell me he’d accepted a job at another shop.
A few others found positions through the contacts I’d shared.
I was relieved.
But I didn’t pretend every family had landed safely.
Then I heard the news about Kenzie.
She’d moved out of Grant’s new apartment.
Apparently, the luxury lifestyle wasn’t quite as appealing without the luxury.
And Grant had begun selling his personal possessions to pay legal fees.
His shiny new life was collapsing.
But one final surprise was still coming.
PART 5 — My Ex Lost His Factory While I Built Something Better
“I owe you an apology,” Grant said.
He was standing outside my new office six months after the divorce process began.
At first, I barely recognized him.
The perfectly styled hair was gone.
So was the expensive watch.
He wore a wrinkled gray jacket and held a paper coffee cup with a brown stain down one side.
I didn’t invite him inside.
“What do you want, Grant?”
“Five minutes.”
“You have two.”
He looked through the glass at my small office.
Three desks.
A conference table.
A whiteboard covered in project deadlines.
Nothing fancy.
But every single thing inside belonged to my new business.
I had started Calder Industrial Solutions, a manufacturing project-management and procurement firm.
No borrowed promises.
No personal guarantees for somebody else’s ambitions.
Just contracts I understood and clients who paid their invoices.
Our first quarter had gone better than expected.
My friend Beth Porter handled operations.
Celia was advising on equipment procurement.
And Luis had referred two new commercial clients.
Grant stared at the company name on the door.
“So you’re really doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Building another business.”
“Yes.”
His throat moved.
“I heard you landed the North Shore Components contract.”
“We did.”
“That account used to be mine.”
“That account belonged to your company.
They ended the relationship before they contacted us.”
