Chapter 5 - Chelsea’s Desperate Move
When anger failed, Chelsea attempted a different strategy: manipulation.
Three weeks after I left the house, I walked out of my attorney’s office to find Chelsea waiting near my car. She was dressed down—no expensive jewelry, no designer sunglasses, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. She looked pale and distressed, a sharp contrast to the polished woman who had ordered me to use the back door.
"Albert," she said, stepping forward, her hands trembling as she held her purse. "Please... just give me five minutes. That's all I ask."
I stood beside my car door, keeping my distance. "Say what you have to say, Chelsea."
Tears welling up in her eyes, she took a shaky breath. "I came to apologize. I know... I know I was terrible to you. I was stressed, Albert. Managing the house, trying to fit in with Logan’s boss's wife, trying to build a future... I took my stress out on you. It was wrong. I see that now."
I watched her quietly. Years of auditing financial ledgers teach you to distinguish between genuine balance sheets and manufactured figures. Her tears were real, but they were tears of panic, not remorse.
"You don't miss me, Chelsea," I said directly. "You miss my signature."
She froze, her emotional performance faltering.
"You did not mind my stress when I was cooking your meals or mowing your lawn," I said. "You only realized you were wrong when the luxury car was towed and the mortgage interest tripled. That is not repentance, Chelsea. That is consequence."
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"Albert, if you don't step back into the mortgage, we will lose the house!" she pleaded, dropping the tearful act as desperation took over. "We will be ruined! Logan’s reputation at work will be destroyed!"
"Then Logan will have to learn what I learned forty years ago," I replied quietly, opening my car door. "That a man must build his life on what he earns, not on what he extracts from others."
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