He sneered. "What's this? Heard my mom won the lottery and came running to beg for scraps?"
Before I could respond, he glared at me, his eyes sharp with hostility and suspicion. "Don't even think about getting your hands on my money, Zelda."
"Sign this agreement and get the hell out of my house—take your mother with you."
What I hadn't expected was that he'd be so eager he'd actually brought divorce papers with him.
I studied his smug, self-satisfied face with detached amusement, then smiled meaningfully.
"Are you sure you want a divorce?"
Clement lifted his chin, staring down at me with naked contempt, as if the money were already in his pocket.
"Absolutely certain. I'm about to be a millionaire. And you?" He looked me up and down, wagging his finger dismissively. After a long moment, he shook his head with a mocking click of his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. The daughter of a butcher—tell me, what exactly made you think you were ever worthy of me?"
"I always said I'd make it big someday. When we got married, I asked your parents to buy me a Porsche, and they refused. Well, look at me now—I've hit the jackpot! Someone must be drowning in regret."