I picked up the pen. Damien’s smirk widened. Vivienne actually giggled. “Smart girl,” he said. “I was worried you’d embarrass yourself.” I clicked the pen twice, then set it down beside the contract, untouched. “Before I sign, Damien, I think you should know something.” I slid my phone across the polished marble. On the screen was the masthead of Aldridge Holdings, the private equity firm that had quietly acquired sixty-one percent of his law firm’s parent company eighteen months ago. He glanced at it, annoyed. “So? What does Aldridge have to do with anything?” “I’m Aldridge,” I said softly. “My father left it to me when he died. I’ve been running it from the guest bedroom you mocked me for redecorating.” The color drained from his face in real time. Vivienne stopped giggling. I tapped the screen once more, and an email thread bloomed open, addressed from me to his managing partner that morning. “As of nine a.m., I voted to remove you from partnership for gross ethics violations, including the eleven billable hours you charged a client for a weekend in Aspen with your associate. HR is escorting your things out as we speak.” Damien lunged for the phone. I lifted it gently out of reach. “Oh, and the penthouse,” I continued, “is owned by an Aldridge subsidiary. You have until Friday to vacate. Vivienne can help you pack, since she already knows where everything is.” Vivienne took one shaky step backward toward the elevator. “Damien, you said she was nobody.” “She was nobody,” he whispered. I stood up, slid the unsigned divorce papers into my bag, and walked past him to the window. “I’ll be filing my own version on Monday. The one where I keep everything, because legally, everything was already mine.” I paused at the elevator and turned around. “You spent eight years telling people I was lucky to have you. Let’s see how lucky you feel without me.” The doors closed on his face, and for the first time in eight years, I smiled with my whole heart.
