On the first day of our marriage, my husband threw a greasy dishcloth in my face and said, “From now on, you’re my family’s maid.” I smiled, left my wedding ring on the table, and walked out with my suitcase.

Howard shifted slightly.

Rachel continued.

“If your clients want litigation, we can also discuss threatening communications, unwanted contact, the incident at Mrs. Carter’s parents’ residence, the police report involving Savannah Reed, and the physical humiliation Olivia describes from the morning after the wedding.”

Mason leaned forward.

“You’re calling a towel domestic violence now?”

“I’m calling it evidence of conduct that a judge may find relevant.”

His face changed.

Not much.

But enough.

I saw fear.

I had no desire to spend years fighting him.

So I made an offer.

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

Carol stared at me.

“What?”

“I’ll return one hundred thousand. In exchange, Mason agrees to an uncontested divorce, no future financial claims, no contact with me or my family, and a written acknowledgment that I did not commit fraud.”

Mason laughed.

“You think you get to steal hundreds of thousands and toss us scraps?”