Chapter 8 - The Final Settlement
In November, five months after the dinner in Great Falls, Warren and I signed the final divorce and asset division documents in a private conference room at the Fairfax County Courthouse.
Warren looked like a different man. He had lost weight, his expensive Swiss watch was gone—sold to pay his initial legal fees—and he was wearing a standard off-the-rack suit that looked slightly too large for his frame. He sat next to Gary Vance, who looked thoroughly exhausted by the entire proceeding.
Arthur Pendelton slid the final decrees across the table.
"The terms are as follows," Arthur announced. "Ms. Reed will drop the $300,000 collection suit and release the lien against Mr. Pike’s future earnings. In exchange, Mr. Pike waives any and all claims to Reed Urban Partners, its subsidiaries, and any residential real estate currently held in Ms. Reed’s name or her family’s trusts."
"What about child support?" Gary asked, his voice low.
"Ms. Reed is waiving child support," Arthur said smoothly. "She does not require financial assistance from Mr. Pike. However, Mr. Pike’s visitation will remain restricted to alternate Saturdays from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM, supervised, until he completes a court-approved parental responsibility course."
Warren looked up, his eyes hollow. He didn't look at Arthur; he looked directly at me.
"Are you happy now, Allison?" he asked, his voice raw. "You stripped me of everything. My job, my house, my car, my family's respect. You completely destroyed my life."
"You destroyed your own life, Warren," I said calmly, signing my name on the final line of the document with a steady hand. "You built a castle out of lies and expected me to live in the basement so you could look taller. I didn't take your job. Your own greed did that. I didn't take your car. Your default did that. And as for your family’s respect... if their respect was based on a fake lease, it was never real to begin with."
He stared at the pen in his hand for a long moment before finally signing his own name. The eleventh year of our marriage was resolved in a matter of seconds.
May you like
As we stood up to leave, Warren called out to me one last time. "Does Mom ever get to see the girls again?"
I stopped at the door, my hand on the brass knob. "When the girls are eighteen, they can choose to see whoever they want, Warren. But until then, I will never let them sit at a table where they are told they don't matter."
