“We both know what Preston is capable of when he is backed into a corner, Claire.”

He leaned closer, the scent of his expensive cologne filling the small space.

“He wants this resolved before the board meeting on Tuesday morning.”

“And if I refuse to sign?” I asked.

“He will file for divorce on grounds of emotional instability,” Vance said.

“He will tie you up in court for a decade, and you will leave with nothing.”

I stared at the blue folder in my lap.

The gold pen felt cold and heavy in my hand.

“I need time to review this with my own lawyers,” I said.

“You have until five o’clock tonight,” Vance said, checking his watch.

He tapped the privacy partition, and the driver put the car in gear.

“Where can I drop you?” Vance asked.

“The Fifth Avenue apartment,” I said. “I need to pack.”

Vance nodded slowly.

“A wise choice. Start fresh, Claire. Take the money.”

The car glided through the slushy Manhattan streets in near silence.

I stared out the window at the gray, towering buildings.

My mind was racing.