The scale of it washed over me.

The divorce wasn’t just about getting rid of the woman who didn’t come from old money. It was a bloodless coup.

Conrad had manufactured the miscarriage, isolated me, and pushed Preston to the edge of a breakdown. He’d convinced the board that Preston was unfit and without a legacy to stabilize the stock.

The contract Preston had just signed wasn’t a harsh divorce settlement. It was his legal abdication of the entire Waverly empire.

“You stole my company,” Preston whispered, the betrayal fracturing his voice. “You let me mourn a child I thought was in the ground. You let my wife live in poverty.