Too Late to Save This Marriage

“Let's get divorced.” At the height of our argument, Maxwell Hamilton ended our threeyear marriage with those words. He said my family and I had conspired to trap him.

He said Christina Powell was the woman he'd loved all along. I said only, “Okay,” then went to have an abortion on my own.

After the procedure, I reminded Maxwell that we needed to get divorced. His gaze dropped to my stomach. “I don't want my child born into a broken home.” “I had an abortion,” I said.

Maxwell's eyes snapped up to mine, reddening at the corners. Chapter 1 We were in our third year of marriage when his first love, Christina Powell, returned to the States.

I discovered that he was seeing her frequently. Six months earlier, my mom's mother had fallen ill while Maxwell was overseas on business.

After Christina came back, I happened across her social media account. While Grandma was in the hospital six months earlier, Maxwell had flown overseas to take care of Christina.

She'd been hospitalized abroad at the same time. But Maxwell had lied to me. He'd told me he was away on business. That was why we had such a vicious argument.

I doubted that he loved me. He told me outright, “When your whole family worked together to get you into my bed, did none of you consider how much I hate being manipulated?

Or that you weren't the woman I loved?” “Fine. I'll tell you. Christina is the one I love.

Happy now?” Three years had passed, and he still believed my family had staged the whole thing to make him marry me. “Maxwell, is that what you've believed all this time?

That my mom and my grandma helped me get you to sleep with me so we could force you to marry me?” He gave a soft laugh, mockery in his eyes. “Didn't they?

You knew I had an ex I wasn't over, and you still sank so low as to crawl into my bed.

Isn't it a little late to start caring whether I love you?” “Let's get divorced.” His words were ugly. They stripped me of all dignity. My eyes stung and reddened.

For a long time, I was too choked up to speak. Finally, I managed, “Okay. Let's get divorced.” Maxwell looked taken aback.

The next day, I took sick leave and went to the hospital for the procedure. The doctor asked me more than once if I was sure I wanted to end the pregnancy.

I nodded and signed the consent form. I didn't tell Maxwell or anyone in the Hamilton family. I hired a young female caregiver who was still in training. She took good care of me.

The procedure was quick. I lay on the operating table under glaring white lights, the sharp smell of disinfectant in my nose.

I stayed in the hospital overnight and was discharged the next day. While I waited for my driver at the curb, I looked up and saw a familiar car sweep past me.

Christina was in the passenger seat. Maxwell's exgirlfriend. My heart gave a small tremor. I was glad I hadn't kept the baby. Still, it had been my first time as a mother.

I couldn't help feeling some reluctance to let go, some sense of loss. But the baby had come at such a bad time.

Maxwell and I weren't right for each other, and we weren't suited to having a child together, either. On the way home, I came across one of Christina's social media posts.

Instagram had delivered it straight to my feed. She'd liked posting photo diaries of her daily life while studying abroad, and she had a following both overseas and in the States.

The day before, while I was having my procedure, Christina had gone to the hospital too. The photo she'd posted showed only Maxwell's arm.

Chapter 2 The muscles in his forearm were faintly taut as he peeled fruit for her. A Vacheron Constantin watch circled his wrist.

The caption on Chrissy's account read: [Out of the hospital!] The comments were full of gossip. [Is that a Vacheron Constantin?] [Your boyfriend?

Something tells me this guy is a big deal.] Christina hadn't replied, but that one photo was enough to set people speculating.

When Maxwell asked for a divorce, I'd hesitated for a moment over whether to tell him about the pregnancy and whether to keep the baby. I'd even called him before the procedure.

He hadn't answered. Judging by the timing, he was with Christina when I called. Now I was profoundly grateful he hadn't picked up.

After our argument, Maxwell had moved into the apartment near his office. His assistant had come back to collect a few changes of clothes. I wasn't angry.

If anything, I was relieved. I rested at home for three days before returning to work and throwing myself into it. At a meeting, our manager said, “Let's land Hamilton Group.

That's a lucrative account. We're up against two major advertising agencies.” As I was about to leave, our vice president, Ms.

Webb, stopped me. “Katherine, wait.” I paused and smiled at her. “Yes, Ms. Webb?” “You know Director Brock is being promoted and transferring to an overseas branch?

I want you to lead the team on the Hamilton Group pitch.” I understood what she meant.

If I landed Hamilton Group, the director's position would be mine. “Don't let me down.” She winked at me.

I nodded. “I'll give it my best.” The fact that I'd be facing Maxwell made the pressure that much worse. Hamilton Group was notoriously difficult to please.

Their standards were exacting; every detail had to be scrutinized over and over. But they always paid generously. Their budgets were ample, and they never haggled over fees.

Everyone in the industry wanted to work with them. The next day, Ms. Webb's expression was serious as she warned me, “Another agency has joined the competition.

Katherine, this one could be tough.

Do what you can to win it, but if we can't, we'll just have to accept that we're there to make up the numbers.” I didn't understand. “The new agency is Daybreak Creative.

Their head, Christina Powell, is Mr. Hamilton's exgirlfriend. Just do your best, okay? I believe in you.” My breath caught slightly. Christina was part of the competition too.

I'd gone still at the sound of her name. Whenever Christina was one of the options, Maxwell would always choose her.

I left the vice president's office and returned to my desk, where I heard my coworkers discussing it. Yesterday, they'd been full of energy, certain we could win.

Today, all that enthusiasm was gone. “A classmate from college is in management at Hamilton Group now.

He told me Christina Powell was Maxwell Hamilton's first love.” “Oh, wow, small world! I went to college with both of them.” “Seriously?

Tell us everything.” “Maxwell was the one who pursued Christina back then. The girls who liked him could've formed a line from the dorms all the way to the restaurants off campus.

Then one day, out of nowhere, he went public with their relationship.

He was outside our dorm every day, waiting for Christina.” She went on, “We used to say he'd waited outside the girls' dorm so long he was practically a statue.” Someone groaned and looked at me. “Katherine, are we still doing this?

It sounds like they've already picked the winner. What's the point of going through all this just to make up the numbers?” I smiled and tried to reassure them.

Chapter 3 “We've made the shortlist, so we might as well try. Maybe we'll get ridiculously lucky.

Don't you want a bigger yearend bonus?” Someone pressed their palms together in prayer. “Please let us land Hamilton Group.” When I got home from work, Maxwell still hadn't moved back.

His assistant came by again. When I opened the door, Webb greeted me politely. “Ms. Bennett. I'm here to pick up some files for Mr.

Hamilton.” I let him in and left him to find them himself. “Has Maxwell been busy lately?” I asked.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Could you pass along a message for me?” He said that would be no problem. “Ask him when he'll have time for us to get the divorce taken care of.” Looking uncomfortable, Webb went into the study to find the files.

During those days of separation and cold silence between Maxwell and me, I spent most of my time either at the office or working overtime at home.

I'd married Maxwell when he was going through a difficult time in his love life. Back then, I hadn't known he still wasn't over his ex. Our families had set us up on a date.

But we'd met before that. I was in my third year of graduate school when I went to a bar for the first time. I almost caught the attention of a drunk.

Maxwell had been sitting at the bar with a group of friends. He was handsome. His friends all had a distinguished air, but he stood out even among them.

When I left, the drunk followed me down a deserted side street. I walked faster and faster, and the man behind me sped up too. Panic rose inside me.

Maxwell came around the corner, his tall, straight figure suddenly in front of me. He looked down, his expression cool and aloof. I was so frightened I was close to tears.

He glanced at me, then at the drunk behind me, and understood at once. Immediately, he hooked an arm around my waist and led me out of the alley.

Only then did the drunk stop following.

Once we were out of the alley, Maxwell glanced at me. “A girl should be more careful this late at night.” Later, I saw on the news that the drunk was a serial killer.

If I hadn't run into Maxwell that night, something terrible might really have happened to me. Even thinking about it afterward scared me.

A month later, our families arranged a date, and we were formally introduced. My dad was an orphan. After he married my mom, he moved into her family home.

He and my maternal grandfather worked in the fishing business, and we were fairly welloff. Maxwell's grandfather was in the Navy.

Years ago, during a typhoon, my grandfather and my dad had rescued Maxwell and several other Navy men at sea. They'd lost their own lives in the water.

After Grandpa and Dad died, Grandma, Mom, and I had only one another to depend on. Life had taken a turn for the worse.

It was only this year that Grandpa Hamilton had gotten in touch with Grandma. That was how he'd come to introduce us. But I could tell Maxwell wasn't particularly interested in me.

I'd even caught snatches of him arguing with his family. He seemed unwilling to go along with their plan and date me. Still, he spent a month seeing me.

We had very little physical contact during that month. Even holding my hand made him frown reflexively. He married me anyway. At a party, we'd gotten drunk and had sex.

I couldn't even remember what had happened that night. Grandma had come looking for me and found us in bed together. Maxwell had had no choice but to marry me.

From the moment Grandma found us, he'd been convinced it was a trap my family had set to make him marry me. Nothing I said could clear my name. He never believed me.

Chapter 4 He'd long since made up his mind about me and my family. Half a month had passed since I'd asked Webb to deliver my message. Maxwell hadn't replied. I called him.

A woman answered. A woman. Late at night. It was hard to put those things together without letting my imagination run. I paused, thinking I'd called the wrong number.

I checked the contact name. I hadn't. I hung up and messaged his assistant. [Mr.

Webb, sorry to bother you.] [Could you please ask Maxwell when he'll be free to take care of the divorce?] Webb replied with the same polite formality as before.

The next time I saw Maxwell was a month later, when we went to Hamilton Group to present our pitch. The atmosphere was solemn and oppressive, enough to put anyone on edge.

Maxwell and I exchanged a glance. His gaze was as casually indifferent as ever. That look made my heart clench.

All at once, I thought I was quite brave, going ahead even though I knew how this would end.

As the team leader and the person in charge of the proposal, I would give the presentation.

Two agencies were going first, which would make things a little easier by the time it was my turn. During a break, Maxwell rose and headed out.

A coworker leaned toward my ear and whispered, “Katherine, do we even have a chance? When we got here, I saw Mr.

Hamilton and Christina Powell from Daybreak Creative getting out of the same car.” I offered reassurance anyway. “Don't worry. Maxwell doesn't get to decide this on his own