81 My mother-in-law ripped my wig off in front of one hundred and forty-six wedding guests.

The emergency court summons was served to Evan at 9:15 AM on Tuesday.

By 11:30 AM, he was standing in the lobby of my office building with two dozen white calla lilies and an envelope from Tiffany & Co.

I was stepping out of the elevator on my way to lunch when I saw him arguing with the building security guard. When Evan spotted me, his face lit up with desperate relief.

“Nora!” he called out, dodging past the guard’s outstretched arm. “Nora, please! Don’t walk away!”

Coworkers from three different agencies turned to stare. Evan looked haggard. The bespoke charm he had cultivated for years was fraying at the seams. Deep dark circles carved hollows beneath his eyes.

“You shouldn't be here, Evan,” I said coldly, keeping my distance.

“An annulment?” he hissed in a panicked whisper, thrusting the heavy bouquet of lilies toward me. “Nora, you filed for an annulment based on *fraud*? Do you have any idea what that does to the trust?”

I looked at the expensive flowers, then up at his pleading eyes. “You didn't come here to apologize for what your mother did. You came here because the money is slipping through your fingers.”

“That’s not true!” he stammered, his voice rising enough to draw an audience. “I love you! I brought you your favorite flowers! I bought you the diamond bracelet you looked at in New York! Look at it!”

He tried to shove the blue jewelry box into my hands.

“Take your flowers and your guilt bracelet, Evan,” I said, my voice echoing clearly across the marble lobby. “And leave.”

“Nora, listen to reason!” Evan grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, desperate. “If the judge voids the marriage, I lose everything! My mother takes the company! I’ll be left with nothing! We can work through this in couples therapy. We can move to Chicago! Away from my mother! Just withdraw the fraud petition!”

I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, then slowly brought my eyes back to his face.

“Let go of me.”

The authority in my voice made him freeze.

“You had the chance to choose me,” I told him, loud enough for every security guard and professional in the lobby to hear. “You had that chance at the rehearsal dinner. You had that chance when your mother told you she was going to attack me. You chose four million dollars. Now you have neither.”

The security guard stepped forward, planting a heavy hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Time to go, sir. Before I call the Boston Police.”

Evan released my wrist, his face a mask of bitter disbelief. “You’re destroying our lives over your pride!”