“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed rather than scared.
His lawyer didn’t respond immediately. She reread the addendum, flipped to the second page, went back to the first, and then looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and professional fury that would have made me laugh in any other life.
“Daniel,” she finally said, very low. “Is this authentic?”
The judge looked up. “Is there a problem with the addendum?”
Daniel’s lawyer swallowed hard. “Your Honor… I need a moment to review with my client certain documentation attached to the asset transfer.”
I lowered my hands to my lap so no one would see them shaking. Because yes, they were shaking. Not from fear. From relief held back for far too long. From exhaustion. From old rage. From everything I had swallowed since Daniel told me, with the calm of a satisfied predator, that he wanted “the house, the cars, everything… except the boy.”
Except Ethan. Always except Ethan.
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