He Asked Me To Wait, I Asked For A Divorce Chapter 04

That evening, Richard sent a distant relative to pass along a message.

“Gavin may have divorced you, but you were still husband and wife once. His job isn’t easy. Send the Mercers five hundred dollars a month. Call it honoring what the two of you once had.”

I actually laughed.

I pulled out my phone and typed a text right in front of the messenger.

The relative asked, “What are you sending?”

I hit send.

“Tell the Mercers that if they try to shake me down again, I’ll file a formal complaint with Gavin’s command about him trying to dump lifelong caregiving on me and his family withholding my premarital property.”

The relative’s face changed.

“Claire, that’s serious.”

“I know.” I put my phone away. “So they’d better decide how far they want to push this.”

Two weeks later, Gavin texted me for the first time.

His message sounded almost gentle.

“Claire, I know you’re still angry. The divorce was only a temporary arrangement. Once I prove myself here, I’ll come back for you.”

I kept reading. “My overseas pay isn’t much right now, so help my parents out for me. Your reputation matters, especially in a military town. If you drag this to my command and damage my career, it won’t help you either.”

I almost deleted the thread, then stopped with my thumb hovering over the screen.

No.

Evidence this shameless would be useful someday.

Once storm season picked up, word about my handmade marine gear started spreading through the local maritime community.

The first time Owen Hayes came to pick up an order, the fingertips of his work gloves were worn straight through.

He tried on the pair I’d made, flexed his hands twice, and ordered thirty pairs on the spot.

“These are seriously good.”

I said, “As long as they hold up.”

“They do more than hold up. They fit.” He looked at me. “My marine construction crew can buy from you regularly. Can you keep up with that kind of volume?”

I looked down at the purchase order he handed me, and my heart suddenly sped up.

This wasn’t just thirty pairs of gloves. It was a path to building something solid of my own.

“I can.”

When I got home, I reached out to several unemployed Navy spouses and stay-at-home moms in the community.

Some had husbands away most of the year. Some were constantly pushed around by their husbands’ families. Some had several kids and barely enough money coming in.

I laid out the pay clearly.

“I’ll pay you by the piece. I’ll handle sales and front the material costs, but the workmanship has to be clean.”

They stared at me like they couldn’t believe it.

“Claire, you really want us working with you?”

“I can’t fill all these orders alone. We work, we get paid. Nobody owes anybody a favor.”

We turned the spare bedroom in my parents’ place into a workshop, set up a long table, and spent the entire night surrounded by canvas, thread, and the steady pull of needles through heavy fabric.

Mom watched the room full of women working and quietly pulled me aside.

“Claire, you’re different now.”

I asked, “How?”

She thought for a moment, her eyes turning damp. “You’re living for yourself.”

My nose stung, and I almost laughed through tears.

By the time the seasonal slowdown at the docks was approaching, Owen came by again.

He brought news.

“The First Coast Women’s Enterprise Center is taking nominations for its Rising Entrepreneur Award. Angela Brooks heard about what you’re doing and wants to meet you.”

I froze.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He smiled. “You built a business from nothing and brought other women into paid work with you. Why wouldn’t she want to meet you?”

It was the first time anyone had told me my hard work wasn’t simply what life demanded of me. It was a skill. Something I’d built.

When the Mercers heard about it, they couldn’t sit still.

Denise showed up again. This time she didn’t scream. She forced a smile instead.

“Claire, I know I said some harsh things before. Don’t hold it against me. Your marine gear business is doing so well now. Could you let my niece come learn the work too? We’re still family. Help her get started.”

I looked at her.

“Since when are we family?”

Her smile froze.

“You’re still holding a grudge?”

“I have a good memory.”

Her expression dropped.

“Claire, don’t take this too far. Once people decide what kind of woman you are, all the success in the world won’t make a decent man want you.”

I was about to answer when someone knocked on the door.

Angela Brooks from the Women’s Enterprise Center stood outside. Behind her were two uniformed Navy officers assigned to a command inquiry and a deputy from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office.

The last person to enter was a young woman in an expensive designer suit.

She had flawless makeup, pale skin, and a pearl necklace around her throat.

One look at it turned my fingertips ice-cold.

It was the necklace my grandmother had left me. The clasp was engraved with my initials, C.B.

The young woman frowned as she looked me over, open contempt in her eyes.

“You’re Claire Bennett?”

I didn’t answer.

One of the Navy officers spoke first. “Ms. Bennett, we’ve received a formal complaint from Lieutenant Gavin Mercer.”

I looked at him.

“What exactly did he accuse me of?”

His expression was grave. “He alleges that you were involved with marine contractor Owen Hayes while you were still together, pressured him into the divorce, and then used his Navy affiliation and the Mayport spouse community to organize a for-profit gear operation that damaged his professional reputation.”

Denise stood behind the others, wearing a smug little smile.

The young woman lifted her chin. “My father is a rear admiral. Gavin has a real career ahead of him. He can’t let someone like you drag him down.”

The pearl necklace at her throat shifted softly, and the sight felt like a slap across my face.

The Navy officer set the written complaint on the table.

“Ms. Bennett, if these allegations are substantiated, you’ll be subject to a formal investigation, and any operation using military affiliation improperly may have to shut down immediately.”

The room went completely silent.

Denise finally let out a laugh. “I told everyone she was trouble.”

The officer looked at me. “Ms. Bennett, do you have documentation that addresses these allegations?”

Sloane Whitmore cut in coldly. “If she doesn’t, let’s stop wasting everyone’s time.”

I stared at the necklace around her neck.

In my last life, she had stood in front of me with that same expression, holding a mask to her face while asking Gavin whether I was the ex-wife he’d said slept around.

This time, she’d arrived much earlier. And somehow, even more foolishly.

I was about to speak when the deputy closed his notebook.

“Ms. Bennett, depending on what we establish here, we may need you to come down and give a formal statement.”

I didn’t move.

I looked at Sloane and suddenly smiled.

Her brows drew together.

“What’s so funny?”

I swept my gaze across the room, then looked at the Navy officers. My voice stayed steady. “Of course I have evidence. Give me a minute, and I’ll take it out one piece at a time so no one can claim I’m talking my way around anything.”

Denise immediately shrieked, “What evidence could you possibly have? You’re just stalling!”

I ignored her, walked into the study, and returned with a document envelope in my hand.