“You don’t have a prenup,” I corrected. “I do.”
The color drained completely from his face.
“My father insisted on it before we got married. Remember? You were so offended. Said it meant I didn’t trust you.”
“You told me you didn’t sign it,” he whispered.
“I lied.”
He stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “You can’t—”
“I can. And I did. And the attorney’s name is James Sterling. Would you like me to type it in?”
Before he could respond, Eleanor burst into the room.
She was smiling. Triumphant. Holding her phone up like a trophy.
“It’s done,” she announced. “The sellers accepted our offer. No complications. No mess.” She looked at me with barely concealed contempt. “You just sign the divorce papers and move on with your pathetic little life.”
I nodded slowly. Let her think I was defeated. Broken.
“You’re right,” I said quietly.
Eleanor’s smile widened. “Finally. Some sense.”
“I should move on.”
“Exactly. Michael deserves better than—”
I tapped my phone screen.
Three options appeared.
[Reject Transfers]
[Report Fraud]
[Lock All Accounts]
I selected all three.
My phone vibrated once. Twice. Three times.
Confirmation messages appeared in rapid succession.
Transactions cancelled.
Fraud investigation initiated.
Accounts locked. Contact support to unlock.
Eleanor’s phone rang. Loud and shrill in the quiet hospital room.
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