I did not look at him while the ink dried.

“It is done,” I said, putting the pen down.

Daniel stared at the signature, his shoulders sagging.

“You are destroying us,” he whispered.

“There is no us,” I said. “There hasn’t been for a very long time.”

Clara took the signed document from me, checked the signature, and nodded.

“I will have my driver deliver this to the courthouse first thing in the morning,” Clara said. “The judge is expecting it.”

“Thank you, Clara,” I said.

Daniel sank into the leather chair behind his desk, looking small beneath the high ceiling of the penthouse.

“What are you going to do with it?” Daniel asked, his voice hollow. “You don’t care about the money. You never did.”

“I am going to use it,” I said.

I looked out the window at the blurred lights of the Chicago skyline.

“I am establishing a foundation,” I said. “The Carter Foundation for Grieving Mothers.”

Daniel flinched.

The room seemed to grow even quieter.

“You are doing this because of Sarah,” he said, his voice barely audible.