Chapter 8 - The Ultimatum
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"You want a divorce?" Grant whispered, his voice cracking. "Morgan, we’ve been married for four days. We can go to counseling. We can cut them off entirely."
"Four days was enough to see exactly how the rest of my life would look," I said, my voice hardening. "You didn't protect me, Grant. A piece of paper isn't going to suddenly give you a spine."
"I won't sign them," he said stubbornly, clutching the folder to his chest. "I love you."
"If you don't sign them by Friday," I warned, stepping back into the foyer, "Natalie will forward the forensic accounting report to the FBI. Wire fraud, embezzlement, and tax evasion. Your mother and sister will spend the next five to ten years in federal prison."
I began to close the door.
"Morgan, wait!"
"Friday, Grant. Tell Brooke she has three days to get used to the color orange."
May you like
The heavy door clicked shut, the deadbolt sliding into place with a definitive, satisfying thud.
I walked back into my study, my heart beating a steady, calm rhythm. The grief of losing my marriage had already been processed the moment the soup hit my chest. What remained was cold, surgical precision.
