Clara rose slowly. Her body was heavy, her ankles swollen, her back aching from another sleepless night. Still, she stood straighter than she had in months.
“Your money?” she asked.
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
She opened the folder beside her and pulled out copies of the bank records. One by one, she laid them on the table.
Tribeca rent.
Diamond necklace.
Range Rover.
Shell transfers.
Foundation withdrawals.
Sabrina Cole.
Richard’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But Clara saw it.
Fear.
“What the hell is this?” he said.
“Evidence.”
His glass hit the table. “You went through my private accounts?”
“Our accounts,” Clara said. “My inheritance. My father’s money. Donor money. Money you used to dress up your affair and call it business.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I met with Marianne Holt.”
That struck him harder.
Richard took one step toward her. “You had no right.”
“I had every right.”
“You think you can threaten me?” His voice dropped into something ugly. “You’re six months pregnant, emotionally unstable, and completely dependent on me. Who do you think people will believe? Me? Or the abandoned wife having a breakdown?”
Clara felt the baby move again.
Not a flutter this time.
A kick.
Her hand went to her belly, and for the first time that night, she smiled.
Richard saw it and frowned. “What?”
“I used to wonder when you stopped loving me,” she said. “Tonight I realized it doesn’t matter. Because I stopped needing you.”
For a moment, the penthouse was silent except for the distant hum of traffic.
Then Richard laughed.
It was cruel and disbelieving.
“You don’t leave men like me, Clara.”
She picked up the envelope and held it out to him.
“You’re right,” she said. “Women like me escape.”
He stared at the envelope but did not take it.
So Clara placed it on the table between them.
“My attorney will contact yours in the morning.”
Richard’s face darkened. “Divorce?”
“And a forensic audit of every account connected to my father’s estate and the foundation.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Clara looked at him with dry eyes.
“Watch me.”
Richard’s phone buzzed before he could answer.
He glanced down.
Sabrina.
Of course.
Clara saw the name light up the screen. For months, that name would have shattered her. Tonight, it only confirmed what she already knew.
Richard answered, his gaze still locked on Clara.
“What?” he snapped.
Clara could hear Sabrina’s voice, sweet and irritated through the speaker.
“Baby, you left your cuff links here.”
Baby.
The word hung in the air like poison.
Clara walked past him.
Richard grabbed her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
She looked down at his hand until he released her.
“To sleep,” she said. “For the first time in this marriage, I’m done waiting.”
She went into the bedroom, closed the door, and locked it.
On the other side, Richard shouted her name once. Then again.
She did not answer.
