If I did this, there would be no going back.

It would destroy Ethan’s career.

But he had already destroyed our marriage, and he was trying to leave me with nothing.

I pressed the button.

The phone rang four times.

“Clara?” Arthur’s deep, warm voice filled the receiver.

“Arthur,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he said. “Are you alright? I heard about the noise surrounding the firm today.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “But I need to see you.”

“We can talk now,” he said.

“No,” I said. “It has to be in person. And it has to be private.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

“Is this about Ethan?” Arthur asked, his tone shifting to one of quiet concern.

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

“Alright,” Arthur said. “I have a gap in my schedule tomorrow morning before the board meeting.”

“Can we meet at the cafe near your apartment?” I asked. “The one on 4th Street.”

“The quiet one in the back,” Arthur agreed. “Nine o’clock?”

“Nine o’clock is perfect,” I said.