Chapter 2 - The Art of the Deal
Three days later, Clara sat in a sterile, glass-walled conference room at Trent Investments. She wore a simple beige cardigan and sensible slacks, playing the part of the discarded, defeated housewife to perfection.
Harrison sat across from her, flanked by his aggressive bulldog of a divorce attorney, Marcus Vance. Harrison was tapping his platinum pen against the mahogany table, looking bored. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty.
"Let’s make this quick, Clara," Harrison sighed, glancing at his watch. "I have a lunch meeting with the Duponts at one. Marcus has drawn up the settlement."
Marcus slid a thin manila folder across the table. "Mr. Trent is being more than generous, Mrs. Trent. Given that you signed a standard prenuptial agreement a decade ago, you are entitled to very little of the corporate growth. However, Harrison is offering a lump sum of fifty thousand dollars to help you transition, along with keeping your current vehicle."
Fifty thousand dollars. For ten years of managing his home, hosting his clients, enduring his mother’s verbal abuse, and supporting him when his firm was nothing but a rented desk in a basement.
"In exchange," Marcus continued, "you will sign a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement regarding the marriage, and a mutual waiver of all future claims. You waive the right to his current assets, and he waives the right to yours. A clean break."
Clara looked down at the papers. She didn't argue. She didn't cry.
"A mutual waiver of all future claims to assets," Clara repeated softly. "Meaning, what is his remains his, and what is mine remains mine, from the moment this is signed?"
"Correct," Harrison said impatiently. "It’s a standard clause, Clara. Don't overthink it. Just sign it so we can both move on with our lives."
Clara picked up the pen. She didn't read the rest of the document. She flipped to the back page and signed her name in smooth, elegant cursive.
Harrison let out a breath he had been holding, a smug, victorious grin spreading across his handsome face. He had gotten out of a decade-long marriage for the price of a mid-tier sports car. He thought he was a genius.
"I'll have my assistant wire the funds by Friday," Harrison said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. "It’s for the best, Clara. You’ll see. You can go back to your quiet little life, and I can focus on my legacy."
May you like
Clara stood up, smoothing down her cardigan. She looked at the man she had loved, realizing that the love had died years ago, replaced only by habit.
"Yes, Harrison," Clara said quietly, her eyes locking onto his with a strange, unnerving calm. "Let’s both focus on our legacies."
