Chapter 11 - The Confrontation on Neutral Ground
Two days later, my attorney arranged a mandatory mediation session at a neutral, high-security downtown law office to address the immediate vacation of the residence. When I walked into the glass-walled conference room accompanied by my legal team and two armed military escorts, Marcus was already sitting there. He looked haggard, his clothes wrinkled, and the arrogant sneer completely wiped from his face.
When he saw me—my head smoothly shaved, wearing my sharp service dress uniform—his eyes darted to the floor. He tried to put on a soft, pleading voice. "Sarah... please. You’re destroying everything. Mom just lost her temper the other night. She got carried away. You can't throw away twelve years of marriage over a bad haircut."
I leaned forward, resting my palms on the mahogany table. My voice was quiet, icy, and completely devoid of emotion. "A bad haircut, Marcus? You held me down while I was unconscious and bleeding, and you told me to 'learn to submit.'"
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"We were just trying to get you to stay home!" he blurted out desperately. "You were drifting away from us!"
"No," I replied, sliding the forensic bank audit and the forged mortgage documents across the table until they hit his hands. "You were trying to break my spirit so I wouldn't report your six-figure embezzlement and your mother’s federal insurance fraud before my security clearance review caught it. You don't miss your wife, Marcus. You miss your host."
