“Gloria’s opinion has never mattered to me, Graham,” I said.

He stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and desperation.

“You have to do this,” he whispered, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a document. “I already had my broker draw up the papers. Just sign here.”

He slid the document across my desk, tapping his finger on the signature line.

I didn’t look at the paper.

Instead, I opened the manila folder in front of me.

I pulled out the documents Sterling had delivered and slid them across the desk toward him.

“What is this?” Graham asked, frowning.

“Divorce papers,” I said.

He laughed, a dry, nervous sound that rattled in his throat. “This is a joke. We don’t have time for your little dramas, Jocelyn.”

“Read them,” I said.

He picked up the papers, his eyes scanning the first page.

As he read, the color drained from his face, leaving him looking gray under the fluorescent lights.

“This… this says you’re keeping the girls,” he stammered. “And there’s a waiver of all marital assets.”