The phone stopped ringing again.

In the silence, my own phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was a text message from my attorney, Arthur.

*The final divorce decree is drafted,* the message read. *Ready for your signature. We need to sign before the federal indictment is unsealed tomorrow morning.*

I looked at the message, feeling a cold knot of resolve tighten in my chest.

I thought about the money Daniel was offering.

I thought about the empty rooms of this penthouse, and the nurseries we never filled.

I thought about the years I spent grieving the child we lost, while Daniel was out building his empire with Clara.

If I took his money, I wouldn’t keep a single cent of it for myself.

I would use it to build something real.

A foundation, perhaps, for women who had lost everything.

Mothers who had no place to go, who were grieving in the dark just as I had.

I would take every dollar he had left and turn his greed into something that could actually heal.