Calvin and Amber. Two people tied by marriage, each nursing an unrequited love. She didn't know whether to envy, pity, or hate him. As Calvin leaned against her, drunk and vulnerable, her lips curled into a bitter smile. She pushed his head away with calculated detachment.
"Calvin," she began sweetly, her voice masking the steel beneath, "I need your help. I'm starting a studio and need some startup funds. Can you sign this for me?"
Calvin blinked at her, his drunken stupor clouding his judgment. "What's this?" he mumbled, taking the document from her outstretched hands.
"It's just a business agreement," she lied smoothly. "A formality."
Amber's heart pounded painfully in her chest as she watched him scan the paper with glassy eyes. The divorce agreement was clear, listing her terms: the house in Bayview and $4 million—pocket change for a man like Calvin. The precision of her request wasn't born from greed but from survival, a calculated demand for the freedom she so desperately craved.