Chapter 7

The conference room was cold, beige, and every surface smelled faintly of lemon-scented disinfectant. Eleanor had chosen it deliberately. No marble, no chandeliers, no reminders of the gala. This was a room for paperwork, for signatures, for the closing of ledgers.

Julian was already seated when she arrived. He looked worse than she'd expected—dark circles under his eyes, his shirt collar unbuttoned, his hair less perfectly groomed than she'd ever seen it. His gold cufflinks were still there, but they hung loose at his wrists, as if he'd lost weight in the days since the gala.

Chloe was beside him. She was wearing a maternity dress now, modest and gray, and she did not meet Eleanor's eyes.

Eleanor took her seat at the head of the table. Clara sat behind her, folder ready. A legal pad, a pen, a glass of water—everything arranged exactly as Eleanor requested.

"Thank you for coming," she said, addressing the room as if she were calling a board meeting. "I'll be brief."

She opened her folder and slid a single document across the table to Julian. He looked at it like it might bite.

"That's a settlement agreement," she said. "It surrenders all claims against you from our marriage. It releases you from any obligation to contribute to my living expenses or retirement. It grants you sole ownership of the apartment in Boca Raton, the yacht, and the collection of classic cars in storage."