"You think you can walk away?" Aurelius threw the folder onto the bed. Papers fanned like a small storm. "It was just the paperwork," I said. My voice was too loud in the master bedroom. He picked up a sheet and read my name. "Kylie Barrett," he said. "Signed at eleven forty-three. Witnessed by—" "I signed nothing without thinking," I interrupted. He smiled without humor. "You handed me a blank check and a list of demands. You anchored this divorce in ink." "I want out of a marriage that feels like a lawsuit," I said. "You're making this into something it isn't." He flipped another photo across the duvet. The picture hit my palm. My fingers trembled and I kept my mouth shut. "Explain this," he said, thumb skimming a coffee-stained corner. "You and—" He folded the photo like a judge folding a verdict. "—a lawyer, at LaRue. Two weeks ago. Friendly chat, right?" "I met him to ask about custody—" I started. "You didn't have custody to ask about," he cut in. "You don't have children. You had a lawyer because you wanted legal advice before you pulled the trigger." My throat worked. "I was preparing. I—" "You were preparing to stab me where it hurts," he said. His voice was calm the way ice is quiet. "You think this is a private exit." "What if I do want a clean break?" I asked. My hands tightened on a loose thread of the