Reporters shouted questions.
“Ryan, did you steal money from your wife?”
“Did you finance your mistress’s lifestyle?”
“Is the Hawaiian wedding legal?”
“Where is Addison?”
Ryan looked directly at the cameras.
And for one second, I saw the man I had married.
The polished businessman.
The charming executive.
The man who could make any room believe he belonged at the center of it.
Then the agents put him in the car.
And the cameras kept rolling.
Joyce called me that evening.
I almost didn’t answer.
But I did.
“What?”
Her voice was weak.
“You’ve ruined my family.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“No.”
“You took the house.”
“It was mine.”
“You froze Ryan’s accounts.”
“Because he stole money.”
“You’ve destroyed his career.”
“He did that.”
She started crying.
“You could have handled this privately.”
I laughed.
“Privately?”
“You could have spoken to us.”
“Your son married another woman publicly.”
