said casually.
Divorce papers.
At my wedding.
He held them out like a gift.
“Sign them now and we can keep this civilized,” he said. “You keep your dignity, and I keep what actually matters.”
“What matters?” I asked.
His expression hardened.
“The company shares after the merger,” he whispered. “The penthouse. The wedding gifts. The investment accounts. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
Comfortable.
After financing half his startup.
After introducing him to my family’s investors.
After spending two years helping him build a company he claimed was ‘
