He placed them on the desk directly in front of my father.

“These are the amended divorce terms,” Vance said. “We are prepared to settle tonight.”

My father didn’t look at the papers.

“We want fifty percent of Whitaker Construction,” Claire said, her voice turning cold and transactional. “Direct ownership. No trusts, no voting restrictions.”

“Fifty percent?” Ethan let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You must be joking.”

“I am not joking,” Claire said, looking directly at my father. “You sign these papers tonight, Daniel, and we can end this quietly.”

“And if I don’t?” my father asked.

“If you don’t, I will drag this through every court in Ohio,” she said. “I will make sure every client, every contractor, and every bank knows exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“What I’ve been doing?” my father repeated.

“Posing as a broke handyman,” she said, her lips curling into a sneer. “Living in a run-down apartment while holding onto millions. How do you think the board of directors will react to that kind of instability?”

She leaned over the desk, her face inches from his.