She gave a small, approving smile. “You already did that part.”

I tilted my head back against the seat, staring through the windshield at the gray, lifeless sky. The county office receded behind us, mundane and bureaucratic to anyone else—but for me, it had become a battlefield. A public stage where I had reclaimed agency. Where I had proven, first to myself, that even when betrayal is meticulous, premeditated, and layered, it can be disrupted.

“Claire,” Natalie said, breaking the silence again. “You need to plan the next steps. He’s not going to stop thinking of ways to regain control.”

I nodded. “I know.” My mind was already ticking. Security locks at the house. Two-step verification on all accounts. Lawyer consultations. Property records. Notices of Marital Interest. Evidence folders copied and distributed. Every bit of paper, every timestamp, every email—I’d treat them like ammunition. Not to destroy him, but to protect myself. To ensure he couldn’t try again.

“And the conversation with him?” Natalie asked. “Will there be one?”