The music was still playing.
That was what I remember most clearly.
Not a particular song.
Just the steady noise behind Landon's voice.
It made the conversation feel strangely disconnected from everything that had happened that morning.
Our divorce had been finalized.
Twelve years of marriage had reached their legal end.
And the first call I received from Landon was about a payment.
Not about the papers.
Not about the years we'd spent together.
About the card.
I knew better than to pretend that one call explained every feeling he had about the divorce.
I couldn't know what he was thinking.
I couldn't know whether he was hurt, relieved, or angry about things he wasn't saying.
But I knew what he had chosen to demand from me.
Access.
That was the immediate problem.
I heard Tessa again.
Her voice carried irritation.
I couldn't make out the full conversation around her.
I knew only that she was nearby and unhappy about the delay.
A familiar sense of urgency rose in me.
I wanted the uncomfortable situation to end.
I wanted the accusation to stop.
I wanted to put down my phone without feeling as though I had caused a scene.
For years, those wants had shaped my decisions.
I would give something up to make the atmosphere easier.
I would change my position to keep someone else calm.
I would agree to something I didn't think was wise, then tell myself the matter wasn't important.
But this mattered.
It involved my company.
And it involved a man who no longer had any marital relationship with me, much less any formal financial authority over the business.
I looked at Dad.
He didn't appear interested in whatever embarrassment Landon was experiencing at the club.
He was concerned with something more basic.
The card had to remain under the company's control.
I had spent so much energy imagining how Landon might feel about the restriction that I hadn't properly considered what continuing the arrangement meant for me.
The anxiety.
The repeated disagreements.
The constant need to justify ordinary financial safeguards.
Those things had become part of my marriage.
I had accepted them as if they were unavoidable.
Now I wondered why I had done that.
I hadn't been asked to surrender ownership of the company.
No one had made Landon a shareholder.
No formal appointment had given him a seat among its directors.
And no authorization had made him a signatory.
Still, I had allowed a supplementary card to blur the practical boundaries between our lives.
I had done it gradually.
One accommodation at a time.
That was probably why it had taken me so long to recognize what was happening.
There hadn't been one moment when I decided Landon could treat the business as his own.
There had been many smaller moments when I failed to stop him treating its resources as something he could expect to use.
Each time, I told myself the next decision would be easier.
It never was.
The longer the access continued, the harder it became to withdraw without facing the argument I feared.
I listened to Landon.
The accusation in his voice had become familiar enough that I could almost anticipate it before he spoke.
I recognized the pressure.
But I didn't accept the responsibility.
That was new.
It was also unsettling.
I had relied on compromise for so long that firmness felt almost rude.
I wanted to soften the words.
To remind him I wasn't acting out of spite.
To explain that this was simply a necessary financial measure.
But I had already explained.
Repeating the explanation wouldn't change the facts.
The transaction had failed because the card could no longer be used in the way Landon expected.
It wasn't his personal card.
It wasn't attached to a company he owned.
And the fact that he was inconvenienced didn't make the restriction illegitimate.
I pressed my fingers against the edge of the phone.
I could still feel the urge to take responsibility for the scene unfolding around him.
But I let the feeling pass.
He was responsible for his response.
I was responsible for my company's money.
For twelve years, I had allowed those responsibilities to become tangled.
That morning, I began separating them.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Could Not Undo the Years I Had Given Landon Access, but I Could Refuse to Restore It Simply Because He Demanded It
My Divorce Was Already Final When Dad Learned Landon Was Still Using the Company Card I Had Never Managed to Take Away
Part 11 of 20
