Chapter 14 - Mediation

Our mediation began at eight in the morning and lasted nine hours.

By noon, everyone hated everyone.

By three, Nathan had eaten six almonds and insulted opposing counsel twice.

By five, we were close.

The mediator, a retired judge named Louise Fallon, sat between separate conference rooms like a patient messenger in a war nobody truly wanted.

She entered my room carrying Aaron’s latest proposal.

“He will reimburse the joint account for disputed personal expenses.”

Nathan read the number.

“Fine.”

“He waives any claim to Marblehead.”

“Already separate,” Nathan said.

Judge Fallon gave him a look.

“Mr. Brooks, if you say that one more time, I will charge you rent for my conference room.”

I covered a smile.

She continued.

“Ms. Mercer retains all Mercer Vale interests. Mr. Prescott retains all Prescott family interests.”

“Agreed.”

“Joint investment account split fifty-fifty.”

“Agreed.”

“House?”

I looked at Nathan.

The Boston house had been purchased after marriage.

Jointly titled.

“I don’t want it.”

Nathan frowned.

“You have equity.”

“I want my half of the equity. He can keep the house if he buys me out.”

Judge Fallon nodded.

“That is his proposal.”

“Then yes.”

She looked at me carefully.

“There is one nonfinancial term.”

“Which is?”

“A mutual non-disparagement agreement.”

Nathan laughed.

“No.”

I turned to him.

“Why?”

“Because their draft is broad enough to make breathing sarcastically actionable.”

Judge Fallon almost smiled.

“We can narrow it.”

I read the clause.

“I’m fine agreeing not to discuss private details publicly.”

Nathan shook his head.

“You may need to correct false statements.”

“Carve that out.”

He looked at me.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Judge Fallon left.

Twenty minutes later, she returned.

“He agrees.”

“Then are we done?”

“Not quite.”

I closed my eyes.

“What now?”

“He wants five minutes with you.”

Nathan said, “No.”

I said, “Yes.”

He turned.

“Claire.”

“We’ve been talking through lawyers for weeks.”

“That is what civilization invented us for.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Judge Fallon arranged it in a neutral room.

Aaron entered alone.

He looked older.

Not dramatically.

Just less polished.

He sat across from me.

“I heard you don’t want the house.”

“No.”

“I thought you loved it.”

“I loved living there with you before it became a place I waited.”

He looked down.

“Fair.”

I waited.

“You asked for five minutes.”

He nodded.

“I wanted to say something without my lawyer turning it into language.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Probably.”

He folded his hands.

“I had an emotional affair.”

The words hung between us.

I did not move.

He continued.

“I kept telling myself it wasn’t an affair because we weren’t sleeping together.”

“You kissed her.”

“I mean before that.”

I said nothing.

“I looked for Jasmine when I was angry with you. I told her things I should have told you. I wanted her approval. I liked that she needed me professionally.”

“She told you to go home.”

“Often.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because going home meant facing how much I had disappointed you.”

I stared at him.

“So you disappointed me more.”

“Yes.”

The answer was immediate.

No defense.

“I thought if I avoided the fight, I could avoid the problem.”

“And?”

“I became the problem.”

My throat tightened.

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

“No. I need you to hear it without explaining.”

He nodded.

“You hurt me.”

His eyes filled.

“I know.”

“You made me feel stupid for noticing.”

“I know.”

“You made me compete with work, and then with her, while telling me I was imagining it.”

“I know.”

I took a breath.

“And I hurt you too.”

He looked up.

“The Slack message.”

“You were wrong before that.”

“Yes.”

“But I wanted maximum humiliation.”

He said nothing.

“I knew exactly where to post so your entire company would see it. I wanted Jasmine embarrassed too, even though I did not know the full truth.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened.

“She resigned.”

“I know.”

“You apologized to her.”

“Yes.”

He looked surprised.

“She told me.”

“Good.”

He rubbed his thumb against his wedding ring.

“I don’t want to hate you.”

“I don’t want to hate you either.”

“Does that mean—”

“No.”

The hope disappeared.

I hated being the one who removed it.

“I can understand you and still leave.”

He nodded slowly.

“I know.”

He took off his ring.

Not dramatically.

He just placed it on the table.

“I kept thinking if I fixed enough things, you’d change your mind.”

“This isn’t a deal.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He looked at the ring.

“I’m learning.”

Judge Fallon knocked gently.

“Time.”

Aaron stood.

At the door, he looked back.

“The board votes tomorrow.”

“I heard.”

“If they ask me to return, I may not.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to find out who I am when nobody needs me at three in the morning.”

He left before I could answer.

An hour later, we signed the mediation memorandum.

No war.

No fortune taken.

No company destroyed.

Just a marriage being divided carefully into what belonged to me, what belonged to him, and what neither of us could recover.

Nathan closed the binder.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

I looked at the signature line.

CLAIRE MERCER PRESCOTT.

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For once, I knew exactly which one.