Page 80 of Absolution

“I voided the prenup,” I cut in, sharper than I meant to.

That actually shuts her up.

Her eyebrows shoot up above the rim of her sunglasses. “Excuse me?”

“I said I voided it,” I repeat. “It was wrong of me to let Dad intimidate Jackie into signing it in the first place.”

My mother blinks. Then her voice drops into something colder.

“We were protecting you.”

“We?”

She sighs like she’s been carrying the burden of the world and no one appreciates her sacrifices. “Yes, we. It was my idea. Your father never thought sweet, innocent Jackie would actually leave you. But I knew better. I know girls like her. All soft smiles and helpless charm, getting their hooks into good, decent boys-”

I stare at her.

“-and then bleeding them dry the second they’re done playing house.”

My blood goes cold.

“You think that’s what this is?” I ask, my voice low. “You think she played me?”

She lifts her chin. “She took the house. I’m guessing alimony, since she doesn’t work. The kids. What would you call it?”

“She didn’t take anything,” I snap. “I gave it to her. Willingly. Because it was the right thing to do.”

My mother looks at me like I’ve just announced I’m joining a cult. And maybe I have, one where guilt is currency and accountability’s the sermon.

“Really, son?” she says, her voice icy with disbelief. “It’s six in the evening, and the children are with the nanny while she frolicsaround town with your money. And you’re standing here telling me she didn’t play you?”

I grit my teeth. “It’s her week with the kids. She can do what she wants. And we agreed on fifty-fifty. Joint custody.”

She clicks her tongue, crossing her arms like she’s schooling me. “Oh, Kyle. You can’t be that naïve. She’ll play nice until she turns them against you. That’s how women like her operate. You’ll be lucky if you see them once a month by next year.”

I go still. And then I say it, quietly.

“Like you saw your kid?”

That makes her flinch. The first crack in her porcelain composure.

“You had full custody,” I continue, my voice shaking. “You had every legal right. And yet, you barely knew me.”

Her voice breaks. “I know you.”

“No, you don’t,” I say. “You know who youwantedme to be. The version of me you showed off at fundraisers and galas. But you don’t know the kid who couldn’t understand why his father was cheating. Or the boy who was told that cheating is fine, as long as you feel ‘neglected.’”

Her head snaps up. “Is that what he told you?” she asks, removing her sunglasses, her voice thin.

I nod slowly. “Yes. More recently, he told me you had some kind ofarrangement. That he does what he wants and you do who you want.”

She looks away like the words physically hurt her. “Well, this is just…”

“Tell me your side, Mom,” I cut in, gentler now. “Please.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just walks toward the kitchen, her heels sharp against the wooden floor. Then she stops, resting her hands on the edge of the island like she needs an anchor.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” she finally asks, her back to me.

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