Thinking back to yesterday, it all clicked, absurd as it was.
Daniel let the woman who killed his father carry his baby?
Seeing my silence, Daniel’s voice softened, almost pleading.
“Emily, she’s only twenty-two. Please, let her go—for the sake of our sixteen years together.”
“If you’ll sign this settlement, I’ll give you the house and the car in my name.”
“And we raised the compensation to a hundred thousand.”
It was laughable. We’d been together sixteen years, and this was the first time he humbled himself to me—over the woman who killed his father.
I picked up the divorce agreement, flipped through it, and held out my hand.
He thought I agreed. His face lit up. He quickly pulled a pen from his bag and pressed it into my palm.
I signed and pushed both agreements back.
“I’ll agree to the divorce. But the private settlement—I don’t have the authority to sign.”
I was being truthful.
But Daniel heard only defiance.
He leaned back, faced dark, chest heaving, then hurled the pen at me.
“Emily Carter, I’m being civil because of our past. Don’t think I’m begging.”
“That was your father. If you don’t have the right, who does?”