He was still trying to negotiate his way out of the truth.

“I am not going to lie for you, Ethan,” I said.

“Clara, please. Think about what we built here.”

“I am thinking about it,” I said. “And I am thinking about how it ends.”

He stared at me, his jaw tightening.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we are done,” I said.

The words felt heavy, but clean.

He didn’t move for a long moment.

“You’re going to divorce me over this?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Yes.”

“You’ll lose everything too,” he said, his tone turning cold. “The prenuptial agreement was very specific.”

“The prenuptial agreement protects my family’s assets, not yours,” I reminded him. “And we have fifteen years of marital property to divide.”

He turned back to his laptop and shut the lid with a sharp snap.

“You won’t get as much as you think,” he said.

He picked up his phone and walked out of the kitchen, heading down the hall toward his study.

I heard the door close behind him.