Maxwell stared at the security feed. He hadn’t meant to pull it up. He’d been reviewing contracts when his eye caught the movement on the monitor — Diana standing at the front door, then stepping aside to let someone in. A woman. Laughing, already talking before she was fully through the door.

His jaw tightened. He didn’t share his spaces. That was not something people who knew him needed to be told twice. His homes, his cars, his offices — he was particular about all of it in a way that had nothing to do with pride and everything to do with the fact that what belonged to him, he kept controlled. The estate was his. He had extended it to Diana, yes, but that was a different thing entirely. That did not mean the doors were open to whoever she felt like inviting.

His thumb moved to his phone and he held it there for a moment. Diana’s name was already on the screen.

He watched them for a moment. Diana threw her head back at something the woman said, her whole body loose with it in a way he hadn’t seen since she’d arrived. He dragged his thumb slowly across his palm.

He told himself it wasn’t about the fact that someone was in his space without him knowing. He told himself that, and then reached over and switched the feed off.

“This is huge, Di.” Carla turned a full circle in the living room, her eyes wide, already reaching for one of the decorative pieces on the side table. “Like, actually huge.”

“Carla.” Diana was already crossing the room. She removed the piece from Carla’s hands before she’d even fully registered she was doing it. “Keep your hands down. We cannot afford to break anything in here. We will spend the rest of our lives paying for it.”

Carla laughed and dropped onto one of the plush sofas with zero ceremony, spreading her arms across the back of it. “Okay but seriously. How are you holding up?”

Diana sat across from her. For a second she just looked at her hands.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I think I’m actually okay.”

“And the divorce? How is that going to work?”

She exhaled slowly. “Maxwell said he’d talk to his lawyer. Set something up. I’m still waiting on the details.”

Carla shook her head. “I never knew there was one Hartway with money like this.”

Diana laughed. “That is genuinely the last of my worries right now.”

“I know, I know.” Carla leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I’m just saying. The man lives like this and nobody talks about him. That’s a certain kind of power.”

Diana didn’t answer that. She was thinking about the card still sitting in her bag, the weight of it, small and unremarkable and completely not. Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her. She glanced at the screen. Uncle Maxwell. She picked up.

“The divorce attorney will see you in the next few hours.” His voice was already in the middle of the sentence when she answered, like he’d decided the call had started the moment he dialed. “Get ready. The driver will come pick you up.”

“Okay, I —” But the line was already dead.

She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. “What?” Carla was watching her.

“Uncle Maxwell.” Diana set the phone down. “The divorce attorney will see me soon. Driver’s coming.”

Carla was already on her feet. “I should get going then.”

Diana looked up at her. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No.” Carla shook her head, firm and immediate. “No, no. You go. I’ll be here waiting. Call me the second you’re out of there, every detail.”

Diana didn’t push. She walked Carla to the door, hugged her, stood there for a moment after the car pulled away. Then she went upstairs.

She ran the shower hot and stepped under it, and for a while she just stood there. The water hit her shoulders and she didn’t move. She was thinking about James. About the version of James she had married, the one who’d held her face in his hands at the altar like she was something he was afraid to lose. She thought about how long she had carried that image even when everything underneath it had already rotted.

She never thought she would be the one filing. That had always felt like someone else’s story. She turned the water off eventually. Dried her hair, her body. Put on a simple gown and pulled her hair back into a ponytail and went downstairs, and through the glass panels by the door she could already see the car pulling up.

She picked up her bag and her phone and walked out.

The attorney’s office was quiet as she arrived, in the way of places where serious things happened regularly. A receptionist. Framed credentials on the wall. The particular stillness of rooms where people came to sign things they couldn’t take back.

She was just sitting down when the inner door opened and a man came through.

“Mrs. Hartway.” He extended his hand. “Mr. Walter.”

“Good day, Mr. Walter.”

He gestured to the chair across from his desk and settled into his own. He had an easy manner, the kind that probably put people at ease in difficult rooms then he folded his hands.

“Mr. Maxwell briefed me on why you’re here.” He paused. “I have to ask you directly. Are you sure about this?”

Diana looked at him. She thought about James that last morning. The way he’d looked at her. The way he had looked so innocent and like the perfect husband. But she remembered again every word he said against her, the betrayal, the secret wedding.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

Mr. Walter nodded, like he’d expected that, like he’d heard it before and still always asked. “Then we’ll move forward. I should be honest with you — James Hartway’s name carries weight in certain places. This won’t be a simple process. He will push back.”

“I know,” she said.

“Good. Then we understand each other.”

Within the hour the papers were drafted. She read through them carefully, signed where Walter indicated. He slid a copy across the desk. “You’ll be in touch?”

“Yes.” She gathered the papers and stood. “Thank you.”

She didn’t speak on the drive back. She held the envelope in her lap and watched the city move past the window and thought about nothing, deliberately, the way you do when there is too much to think about and none of it will help you right now.

She stopped at the post office on the way to send the papers to James. She had barely set her bag down inside the house when her phone buzzed. James. She looked at the notification for a second. Then she opened it.

‘Are you nuts, Diana. What do you think you’re doing, sending me divorce papers? I’m going to believe this is a joke and I’m giving you 48 hours to withdraw everything. Don’t test me.’

She read it twice, her thumb hovering over the screen. Her heart was doing something strange in her chest, some old reflex, something trained over years of managing his moods and choosing her words and making herself smaller so he didn’t have to adjust. She recognized it and she hated that she recognized it.

She set the phone face down on the counter. Then she picked it up again and read the message a third time. Forty eight hours.