Chapter 2 2

Three days later, Cash returned.

He brought the cold air of the airport into the apartment, along with a faint, cloying scent of vanilla and expensive musk. It wasn't his cologne.

Isidora sat at the dining table, a cup of black coffee cooling in front of her. She watched him shed his coat, tossing it onto the armchair. He looked tired, but it was a satisfied kind of exhaustion.

"God, the flight was brutal," Cash said, rubbing his temples. He walked over and kissed the top of her head. It was a reflex, devoid of affection. "San Francisco fog grounded us for two hours."

Isidora didn't look up. She stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking rhythmically against the porcelain.

"How was the presentation?" she asked.

"Fine. Boring. You know how investors are." He sat opposite her, reaching for the carafe of orange juice. "They want the world, but they don't want to pay for the rocket fuel."

Isidora looked at him. Really looked at him. She saw the arrogance in the set of his jaw, the way he didn't even bother to check if she was looking at him before he started eating.

She decided to run one final audit. A stress test on his humanity.

"Cash," she said.

He hummed, slicing into a fried egg.

"We've been married three years," she said slowly. "I think it's time. Let's have a baby."

The knife screeched against the plate.

Cash froze. The silence in the room grew heavy, suffocating. He slowly looked up, and for a second, the mask slipped. Isidora didn't see love. She didn't see excitement.

She saw disgust. And panic.

He put the knife down and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Isi. We talked about this."

"We talked about waiting," she corrected. "We waited."

"The IPO is in six months," Cash said, his voice taking on that condescending tone he used with junior developers. "A child is a distraction. It's a liability right now."

"Is it the IPO?" Isidora asked, leaning forward. "Or is it me? Do you think I'm not fit to carry a Ferguson?"

Cash stood up abruptly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. He looked down at her, his eyes cold.

"Don't be dramatic," he snapped. "We have to be realistic, Isidora. Your background... your genes. We don't know what's in there. Mental instability runs in families."

The air left Isidora's lungs.

He was talking about her mother. Her biological mother, who died in a state institution. He was using her trauma as a weapon to deny her a future.

"Right," she whispered.

Cash sighed, clearly annoyed that he had to deal with her emotions. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a black Centurion card. He slid it across the table.

"Go buy something," he said. "Get a facial. Stop overthinking."

He turned and walked toward his study.

Isidora stared at the black card. It was heavy, made of titanium. It was a leash.

She picked it up and walked to the kitchen trash can. She dropped it in among the coffee grounds and eggshells.

She went to the console table and retrieved the manila folder from the stack of magazines where she'd hidden it.

She walked to the study. The door was ajar. Cash was on the phone, his back to her. His voice was low, intimate.

"I know, baby. I miss him too. I'll be there soon."

Isidora pushed the door open. It hit the stopper with a loud thud.

Cash spun around. He hung up the phone instantly, sliding it into his pocket. "Do you not know how to knock?"

Isidora didn't speak. She walked to his massive redwood desk and slammed the folder down. The Newton's cradle on the corner rattled, the metal balls clicking frantically.

Cash frowned. He opened the folder.

He read the title. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

He looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Divorce? Really, Isidora? Is this a negotiation tactic? You want a higher allowance?"

He didn't believe it. He couldn't conceive of a world where she would voluntarily leave his orbit.

"It's not a negotiation," Isidora said. "It's a notification. I'm leaving. I don't want your money. I want out."

Cash laughed. It was a dry, barking sound. "You don't want my money? You have nothing, Isidora. You came from nothing. Those clothes on your back? I bought them."

"Then I'll leave them here," she said.

She turned to the door.

Cash didn't chase her. He didn't apologize. He sat back in his leather chair and picked up his phone again.

"Get me my lawyer," he said, loud enough for her to hear. "I need a new post-nup drafted. My wife, the little associate, is having an episode."

Isidora stopped at the threshold. Her hand gripped the doorframe until her knuckles turned white.