Chapter 8 - The Divorce Papers
Ruby moved into her grandfather’s Beacon Hill townhouse.
For six weeks, she and Gideon barely saw each other.
They spoke about business.
Margaret’s trial.
The redevelopment bid.
Her father’s recovery.
Nothing personal.
Gideon never asked her to return.
That made everything harder.
Ruby expected relief.
Instead she discovered how deeply he had entered her daily life.
She missed his terrible habit of reading financial reports during breakfast.
She missed the way he silently moved her coffee away from the edge of tables because she constantly knocked cups over.
She even missed arguing with him.
One afternoon, a courier delivered an envelope.
Ruby recognized Gideon’s attorney’s name.
Inside were divorce papers.
Her heart stopped.
Attached was a handwritten note.
You said the contract trapped you. These papers don’t. Sign only if freedom means leaving. If freedom means something else, choose that instead. — G
Ruby read it three times.
Then she cried.
Not because he was ending the marriage.
Because he had finally placed the decision entirely in her hands.
That evening, Ruby attended the final redevelopment hearing.
Gideon stood before the commission alone.
The scandal involving Antonio had damaged Apex severely.
Several commissioners wanted the company disqualified.
Ruby sat in the audience without telling Gideon she would attend.
A commissioner asked, “Mr. Rossi, why should Boston trust a company built partly through criminal influence?”
Gideon answered calmly.
“It shouldn’t.”
The room stirred.
He continued.
“Trust should not be inherited. It should be earned.”
Ruby watched.
“My company benefited from systems created before I controlled it. For years, I believed separating myself privately from those systems was enough. It wasn’t.”
He placed documents on the table.
“We are restructuring Apex under independent compliance oversight. Any contract awarded to us will include public reporting beyond legal requirements.”
Another commissioner leaned forward.
“That reduces your margins significantly.”
“Yes.”
“Why do it?”
Gideon paused.
“Because ownership without accountability eventually becomes corruption.”
Ruby’s breath caught.
He had learned that from her.
The commission recessed.
Gideon turned.
Then he saw Ruby.
Everything in his face changed.
He approached carefully.
“You came.”
“I did.”
“How’s your father?”
“Complaining about hospital food. So basically recovered.”
A faint smile.
Then silence.
Gideon’s gaze dropped toward her left hand.
No ring.
Pain flickered in his eyes.
Ruby noticed.
“The divorce papers arrived.”
“Yes.”
“You signed them.”
It wasn’t a question.
Gideon’s voice remained controlled.
“I signed my portion.”
Ruby nodded.
“I haven’t.”
His eyes lifted.
“I haven’t decided.”
Hope appeared.
Small.
Dangerous.
He immediately tried to hide it.
Ruby almost laughed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Pretend you don’t care.”
“I’m trying to respect your space.”
“You can respect it without acting like a marble statue.”
“I don’t know how.”
“That is the most believable thing you’ve said all year.”
Gideon exhaled.
Ruby stepped closer.
“I need more time.”
“You have it.”
“What if I decide to leave?”
His throat tightened.
“I’ll help you pack.”
“What if I stay?”
His expression broke slightly.
“Then I spend the rest of my life trying not to give you reasons to regret it.”
Ruby smiled through tears.
“That answer needs work.”
“I had six weeks.”
“You should have rehearsed.”
“I did.”
“What was the rehearsed version?”
Gideon looked at her.
“I love you.”
Everything disappeared around them.
Commissioners.
Reporters.
Security.
The marble hall.
Ruby stared at him.
He had never said it.
Not once.
Gideon’s jaw tightened as though the words physically hurt.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I don’t know how to do it well yet. But I do.”
Ruby’s eyes filled.
She touched his face.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“You followed me into a hurricane and got shot.”
“It was technically a severe thunderstorm.”
She laughed.
Gideon smiled.
Then Ruby stepped back.
“But love doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know.”
“And I still need time.”
“I know.”
She left without kissing him.
This time, Gideon smiled after she walked away.
Because she had not said goodbye.
Two days later, Apex won the redevelopment contract.
Not exclusively.
The commission divided the project between three companies, reducing Gideon’s expected profit by nearly forty percent.
He accepted immediately.
The newspapers called it a defeat.
Gideon called Ruby.
“We got it.”
“I saw.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m eating.”
“What?”
“Pizza.”
“Without me?”
“You don’t even like pizza.”
“I like your pizza.”
“You remove the cheese.”
“It’s excessive.”
“That’s not pizza. That’s bread with emotional damage.”
Gideon laughed.
Their conversation lasted forty-three minutes.
Neither mentioned divorce.
A week later, Gideon attended a charity auction.
A woman named Celeste Warren spent most of the evening beside him.
Photographs appeared online the next morning.
Ruby stared at them longer than she wanted to admit.
Her father noticed.
“Jealous?”
“No.”
“You’ve zoomed in three times.”
“I’m checking image quality.”
Her father laughed.
Ruby threw a pillow at him.
That evening Gideon called.
Ruby answered too quickly.
“Hello.”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
“Celeste Warren seems friendly.”
Silence.
Then Gideon said, very carefully, “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Ruby.”
“What?”
“She’s married.”
Ruby froze.
“To whom?”
“Commissioner Warren’s sister.”
“Oh.”
Gideon sounded delighted.
“You thought—”
“Goodnight.”
He laughed as she disconnected.
Ruby stared at the phone.
Then she started laughing too.
For the first time, their love felt almost normal.
Until her attorney called the next morning.
“There’s a problem.”
Ruby sat upright.
“What?”
“Someone filed a challenge to your ownership of the terminals.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
The lawyer hesitated.
“Your father.”
Ruby went silent.
May you like
Across town, Gideon received the same news.
And within an hour, everything they had rebuilt began trembling again.
