Chapter 4 - THE DECISION THAT COST ME MY MARRIAGE AS I KNEW IT
I did not file for divorce that night.
I did something that frightened Thaddius more.
I told him I was getting independent legal advice.
“Serena, we don't need lawyers.”
“You already needed lies.”
He flinched.
“That isn't fair.”
“Stop saying that.”
We were standing on the sidewalk outside Camille’s building.
People walked around us carrying groceries and dog leashes.
There was something comforting about how ordinary the world remained.
“What exactly happened to the eighty thousand?”
Thaddius stared toward the traffic.
He had invested it in a private real-estate deal introduced by a college friend.
The investment was legitimate.
The decision to use our joint money without discussing it was not.
The project collapsed.
Most of the investment disappeared.
“When?”
“Two years and five months ago.”
“What did you tell me?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“I thought I could replace it.”
With Dorothia’s money.
That was the part I finally understood.
After the investment failed, Thaddius borrowed $120,000 from his mother.
He put $80,000 back into our joint finances.
The remaining amount covered taxes, fees, and another obligation he still refused to explain clearly.
By the time I looked at the account again months later, the missing money appeared mostly restored.
I never noticed.
“You borrowed from her to hide what you did to us.”
“Yes.”
“And then you asked me to start paying her.”
“She needed repayment.”
“You made me repay your cover-up.”
“I was paying her too.”
“How much?”
His silence came back.
“Thaddius.”
“Sometimes.”
That word ended something.
Not the marriage legally.
Trust.
I retained a matrimonial attorney named Ellen Roth the next morning.
I told her I was not ready to divorce.
She said:
“Then don't.”
No theatrics.
No rush.
“But understand your financial position.”
We reviewed the basics.
The condo.
Brokerage accounts.
My business.
Thaddius’s compensation as a senior executive at a commercial-property firm.
Retirement accounts.
Debts.
The loan to Dorothia.
“The loan is documented?” Ellen asked.
“I don't know.”
“Find out through proper channels. Don't access accounts that aren't yours.”
Another boundary.
Important.
I returned to our Tribeca condo three days after the fight.
Thaddius had moved into the guest room voluntarily.
My wedding photograph was still on the hallway table.
I turned it face down.
Not smashed.
Not thrown away.
Just down.
That cost more emotionally than I expected.
The next morning, Dorothia called.
I answered.
“You've turned my son against me.”
I almost laughed.
“Your son arranged this.”
“You agreed to help me.”
“Because he lied about why.”
“You enjoyed playing generous.”
There was the contempt again.
“I was generous.”
“No. You wanted to feel superior.”
I thought about every dinner where Dorothia introduced me as “the ambitious one.”
Every Christmas when she joked that I kept receipts for affection.
Maybe she really believed my money was a weapon.
Maybe accepting it had humiliated her too.
That still did not explain the violence.
“Why did you slap me?”
Her answer was immediate.
“Because after everything I did for your husband, you acted like fifteen hundred dollars was some enormous favor.”
Everything I did for your husband.
Not for herself.
For Thaddius.
May you like
I suddenly wondered how much of the loan he had actually repaid.
And what else Dorothia believed he owed her.
