Page 132 of Sweet Ruin

I reach into my inner jacket pocket, take out an envelope, and hold it out.

She looks at it, but doesn’t take it.

“What is that?”

“A gift.”

“I don’t like gifts. We’ve covered this. Gifts are how you end up⁠—”

“Owing somebody. Yes. But you already owe me four million dollars, so I think one little envelope won’t change the balance too much.” I push it into her hand. “Open it.”

It’s a plain white envelope, folded once down the middle because I’ve had it in my jacket since before she rang my doorbell this afternoon and I’ve been waiting all night for the right minute to give it to her.

There is never a right minute, though.

There’s just the minute you’re standing in.

Lilah turns it over. She works her thumb under the flap carefully, like she’s worried something dangerous is about to pop out from inside.

She pulls out the contents, unfolds the pages, and reads the top line.

Then she stops reading and looks up at me.

“This is a settlement agreement.”

“Yes.”

“It has Connor’s name on it.”

“It has his signature on it, too. Page six. And page seven, and the notary page.” I put my hands in my pockets. “We were very thorough.”

Her mouth falls open. She flips to page six.

I watch her eyes bulge as she recognizes her husband’s handwriting and sees that I’m not lying.

“H…how?” she asks.

I shrug. “He signed his name to a pledge of property he doesn’t own, so I made sure that there is a criminal referral sitting in a drawer in a law office on Fifty-Third Street with his name on it. Forgery in the second degree. Grand larceny. There are others. My lawyer enjoyed listing them.”

“You blackmailed my husband into expediting our divorce?”

“I gave your husband a very simple choice.” I nod at the pages in her hands. “That’s the choice he made. He keeps his car, his clothes, his poker chips, and whatever is left in his checking account, which is nothing. He waives the house. He also waives any claim to the bakery, the equipment, the business, the name, and any interest in it forever. He waives spousal support. He waives contest. He signed a statement that the guaranty was executed without your knowledge or consent.” I tap the corner of the page. “You win, Delilah. This is your trophy. Keep it somewhere safe.”

She turns a page. Then another. She’s reading fast now, but when she reaches the end, she’s still confused.

“I’m just… I’m confused. Skye said this could take months, minimum, even uncontested… But this says… This says that, by the end of the month, it’s all over.”

“Take your time,” I advise her. “Read it through. I’ll give you some space.”

I slip out. Niko is standing at the ballroom doors with a glass of vodka in one hand, clearly waiting for me. He raises the glass in a salute when I come over.

“Happy New Year, brother.”

“Where’s the camera?”

“Anton’s got it in the office. Two cards, both full. He’s going through them.” Niko drinks. “Some of the pictures are of the ballroom. Most of them aren’t.”

“Most of them are of what?”