I remained on the curb, the snow dusting the shoulders of my coat.

“I have the physical copy of the agreement,” Vance said, holding up a thick blue legal folder.

“Preston already emailed the terms,” I said.

“The email was a courtesy,” Vance replied. “This is the actual instrument.”

He pushed the door open wider, inviting me into the quiet, warm interior of the car.

I hesitated, the freezing wind stinging my cheeks, then stepped inside.

The heavy door clicked shut, cutting off the sounds of the New York traffic.

The warmth of the car hit my face immediately.

Vance handed me a heavy gold pen from his breast pocket.

“Thirty million dollars,” Vance said, looking at me over his gold-rimmed glasses.

“That is more than generous for a marriage that lasted eighteen years.”

“It is hush money,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“It is an amicable dissolution of assets,” Vance corrected.

“With a strict non-disclosure clause,” I said.

“If I speak to the SEC, or the state attorney, I forfeit every dime.”

Vance did not blink.