My billionaire ex-husband divorced me after convincing himself I was the reason we couldn't have children.

I had been in Luca's office before, years ago, when it was smaller and on a lower floor and the view was of a parking structure instead of the Chicago skyline.

He had a photograph on his desk then — the two of us at Lake Geneva, the summer before everything started to fall apart.

I used to wonder what he did with that photograph after I left.

The new office was on the forty-first floor.

The view was extraordinary.

I arrived at eight-fifty and waited in the corridor outside while Luca's assistant, a composed young man named Daniel, offered me water and pretended not to be curious about who I was.

At eight fifty-eight, the elevator opened and Richard Holt stepped out.

He was sixty-one now.

Still trim.

Still immaculate.

He wore the kind of suit that costs more than most people's monthly rent, and he carried himself with the particular confidence of a man who has never, in his professional life, walked into a room expecting to lose.

He saw me.

Something crossed his face.

Fast.

Gone before it fully formed.

"Ms.

Carter," he said.

"I didn't realize you'd be joining us."

"Mr.

Holt," I said.

He smiled.

It didn't reach anywhere near his eyes.

Daniel opened the office door.

Luca was standing at the window with his back to us.

He turned when we entered.

He looked at Richard the way I imagined he looked at acquisition targets he had already decided to dismantle — not with anger, but with a kind of precise, impersonal attention.

"Richard," he said.

"Sit down."

Richard sat.

I took the chair to Luca's left.

Richard glanced at me again, recalibrating.

"I wasn't aware this was going to be a group conversation," Richard said.

"Nia stays," Luca said.

"You said you had information I needed to hear.

I'd like to hear it."

Richard folded his hands on the table.

Unhurried.

Practiced.

"I'll be direct," he said.

"There are people in this city — journalists, attorneys — who are being fed a narrative about Moretti Global's internal culture.

I believe Ms.

Carter is the source.

I think she's been building a case against the company for years, using these children as leverage, and I think you're too close to the situation to see it clearly."

Luca said nothing.

"I have documentation," Richard continued.

"Communications between Ms.

Carter and a former employee.

Priya Mehta.

I believe they coordinated this.

I believe the story about the letter, about my supposed involvement in your marriage — I believe it was constructed."

He reached into his jacket and placed a folder on the desk.

Luca didn't touch it.

"Constructed," Luca repeated.

"Yes."

"By Nia."

"Yes."

Luca looked at me.

A look I recognized — he was giving me the floor.

I reached into my bag and placed three documents on the table.

The first was the delivery confirmation.

Richard Holt's assistant's signature, dated fourteen months before the divorce.

The second was a sworn statement from Priya Mehta, notarized two weeks ago.

The third was a phone record.

A call from Richard Holt's personal cell to the columnist who had published the blind item.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

Placed the evening before the item ran.

Richard looked at the documents.

His hands stayed folded.

But his left thumb pressed hard into his right palm.

"Those can be challenged," he said.

"They can," I agreed.

"So can the emails your assistant forwarded to my attorney this morning."

Richard went very still.

"She's been with you for eleven years," I said.

"Apparently that's long enough to develop a conscience."

The silence in the room was complete.

Then Richard looked at Luca.

And for the first time since he had walked in, the performance slipped.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

"Luca.

We've worked together for thirteen years.

Whatever she's told you—"

"You told me my wife was hiding her medical results," Luca said.

"You told me she had been advised to disclose something and had chosen not to.

You said you heard it from someone close to her specialist's office."

"I was trying to protect—"

"You were trying to remove her." Luca's voice didn't rise.

It dropped.

"Because she was the one person in my life who wasn't afraid of you."

Richard's mouth opened.

Closed.

"My attorney is outside," Luca said.

"She has a termination agreement and a separate document from our outside counsel regarding the financial irregularities we've identified over the past four years.

You can sign the termination today, or you can leave without signing and we proceed with the full legal referral by end of business."

Richard looked at the folder he had brought.

Then he looked at me.

"You planned this," he said.

"You placed a story in the press calling me a manipulator," I said.

"Two days after Luca began looking at your records.

You moved first, Mr.

Holt.

Exactly like he expected you to."

Something shifted behind his eyes.