“You think you have won, Claire,” Patricia said, her voice dropping to a low, venomous purr.

She unfolded the paper slowly, smoothing it out on the mahogany table with her long, manicured nails.

“But you forgot about this,” she said.

I stepped closer to the table, looking down at the document.

The paper was thick, cream-colored, and bore the official letterhead of my old software firm.

At the bottom, my signature was clearly visible, written in the black ink I always used.

“What is that?” Elena asked, her eyes narrowing as she reached for it.

Patricia swiped the paper back, holding it against her chest.

“This is a non-disclosure and intellectual property agreement,” Patricia said.

“Signed by Claire three years ago, before the merger,” she added.

“That is impossible,” I said, my heart taking a sudden, hard beat against my ribs.

“According to this document,” Patricia said, a cold smile spreading across her face, “any technology developed by Claire’s firm during our marriage belongs entirely to the Voss estate.”

“I never signed an NDA with you, Patricia,” I said, my voice dropping.