Vera took her time reading over the contract you proposed. Here she thought you’d finally put that pretty head of yours into something productive.

But a letter of divorce?

The audacity almost impressed her.

She inhaled slowly, carefully, the way she did before hostile negotiations or emergency press conferences. She wouldn’t lose her temper over this. Not when the world was on fire. Not when the government was breathing down her neck about why there were six missing people under the watch of Ravencrest Surveillance. And certainly not when her marriage was being reduced to legal jargon and exit clauses.

“No.”

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t need to. Vera placed the document into the paper shredder on her desk and watched it disappear, strip by strip, until nothing recognizable remained.

“If you want it back,” she said coolly, “you’re welcome to pick it out of the trash.”

She nudged the recycle bin with her heel, sending shredded paper spilling across the floor like confetti. Divorce papers reduced to debris.

A divorce would be humiliating. Unacceptable. What would the public think if it ever leaked? The Vera Ravencrest—heiress to the family that safeguarded this country’s surveillance infrastructure, the woman trusted to keep truth intact—unable to keep her own partner in line?

Absolutely not.

The media already clawed at her for every little thing. A divorce is nothing compared to being humiliated in public.

She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction to ruin her.

And she wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of walking away on your terms.

Vera slid her black card across the table without looking at you.

“Buy yourself something pretty,” she said, tone dismissive, almost bored. As if affection could still be substituted with expense. As if this was just another tantrum she could outspend. “You could use new clothes, you’re dressed quite dull these days.”

She turned her attention to the next file on her desk. Another missing civilian. Another liability. Another problem that needed solving.

As far as she was concerned, the conversation was already finished and she has already forgotten that you were still in her office.