Claire blinked.
“From me,” he said.
“Not money.
What do you need me to do?”
She had imagined him asking many things.
Who was her doctor?
Where was she living?
Why hadn’t anyone told him?
She had not imagined that question.
“Sign the divorce,” she said.
Pain crossed his face.
She kept going.
“Stop punishing me for leaving.
Stop sending your power into rooms before you enter them.
Stop making every choice feel like something I have to win from you.”
He stared at the papers.
“And the baby?”
“If you want to be a father, be one.”
“I do.”
“Then learn that being a father and owning a family are not the same thing.”
Vincent’s face tightened.
Claire expected resistance.
Instead he asked, “When is your next appointment?”
“Tuesday.”
“Can I come?”
The simplicity of the question stunned her more than a demand would have.
Claire glanced at Ellis.
He did not answer for her.
That was why she trusted him.
“I don’t know yet,” she said.
Vincent nodded once.
No threat.
No order.
Just a nod.
He reached for the silver pen his lawyer had dropped earlier.
His attorney leaned closer.
“Vincent, I recommend we review the parenting language before—”
“Later.”
“There are provisions you may want changed.”
Vincent looked at Claire.
“Does anything in this agreement prevent me from being part of my child’s life if I respect her boundaries?”
Ellis answered, “No.”
Vincent signed the divorce agreement.
The scratch of the pen across the page sounded impossibly loud.
Claire had spent six months trying to obtain that signature.
When it finally appeared, she felt no triumph.
Only grief.
Vincent placed the pen down.
“There.”
Claire stared at his name.
A marriage that had begun beneath white roses and wildflowers had been reduced to ink on paper.
Vincent pushed the agreement toward her.
“I won’t delay it again.”
Claire signed beneath him.
Her hand shook once.
She hated that he noticed.
