“My lawyer already has the files, Clara,” I said.

A heavy silence fell over the line.

“You ruined us,” Clara whispered.

“No,” I said. “You did that yourselves.”

I reached out and pressed the button to end the call.

The room went dead quiet again.

Daniel looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and vacant.

“You really are going to let them take everything,” he said.

“I’m going to let them take you,” I said.

I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the fountain pen Daniel had given me for our fifth anniversary.

It was a heavy, gold-plated pen with my initials engraved on the cap.

I set it down on the edge of the desk, right next to the flashing phone.

“I’ll be at the Wabash studio,” I said. “My lawyer will deliver the papers tonight.”

“Emily, don’t do this,” he said, rising from the desk.

He took a step toward me, but his foot caught on the edge of the rug.

He stumbled, grabbing the edge of the leather armchair to steady himself.