I kept this up for three days before something clicked.

I needed a divorce.

Dragging it out was pointless. Better to cut things off while Lucy was still overseas, before I got tangled up in all that ugliness again.

I drove straight to Matriarch Farley's lakeside estate.

The car rolled down a long, tree-lined drive and stopped at the front entrance of the main house.

The housekeeper spotted me and dipped his head respectfully. "Miss Henson, the Matriarch is in the conservatory."

I walked into the greenhouse. Bertha Farley stood among her prized blue roses, pruning shears in hand, tending to them with the care of a woman who controlled everything she touched.

She looked up when she saw me, a warm smile settling across her face. "Rose, dear. Sylvester didn't come with you?"

I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "Matriarch Farley, I want a divorce from Sylvester."

Snip.

A single rose tumbled to the floor.

The conservatory went deathly quiet.

Matriarch Farley slowly set down her pruning shears and turned to face me, a flicker of puzzlement crossing her features.

"Why? What has Sylvester done wrong?"

"Nothing."

I told her the truth.

"It just doesn't feel right. Rather than torturing each other, it's better to end things early."

Matriarch Farley studied me for a long time. Something moved behind her eyes that I couldn't read.

"You're certain you've thought this through?" she said at last.

"I have."

"Very well. Since you've—"

The conservatory door flew open before she could finish.

"Rose."

Sylvester stood in the doorway, his face white as paper.

"You really want a divorce?"

I hadn't expected him to be here.

I turned and saw him silhouetted against the light. He was still wearing yesterday's shirt, rumpled and creased, nothing like the polished figure he usually cut. His eyes were threaded with red veins. He clearly hadn't slept.

"Yes. I've made up my mind."

I turned back to face Matriarch Farley.

Sylvester walked into the conservatory and stopped in front of me, his voice pressed low.

"Why? Where did I fall short?"

"Or was there someone in that flock of nobodies last night who suits you better than I do?"

The corner of my mouth twitched. I looked away from him.

"It has nothing to do with them. This is my problem. We were wrong from the start. The sooner we separate, the better it is for both of us."

The veins on the back of his hand stood out against the bone.

"Wrong?"