His body went rigid for a split second. Then he turned back to face me. "I remember. Have you decided which one?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes. I already drafted the contract. It's in the second drawer of this nightstand."
"Just sign it, and I promise I won't cause any more trouble. Deal?"
Hubert didn't think twice. He pulled the contract from the drawer, scrawled his signature, and set it back on the nightstand.
He never noticed the divorce papers and the share-transfer agreement tucked in with it.
He didn't even glance up. "Done. Remember what you said."
Then he turned and walked out.
Ten minutes after the door closed, I pulled out the razor blade I'd hidden and began sawing through the ropes, strand by strand.
The moment I was free, I called a moving company and told them to pick up the boxes I'd packed days ago.
At the same time, I grabbed the signed divorce agreement and the other documents, tracked down the paparazzo, collected every photo he'd taken over the past few days, and went straight to a lawyer. I handed over everything.
I booked a flight to Thornridge, climbed into a cab, and pulled the second SIM card out of my phone.
Hubert had bought it for me.