“Hello, Preston,” I said quietly, though in the silence it landed like a shout.

He couldn’t answer. His hands gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles went bone-white.

Marcus Vance cleared his throat and stepped forward, ever the fixer.

“Hannah, this is highly inappropriate and legally irregular. We’re in the final stages of the asset transfer and the divorce decree.

You need to wait in the lobby until we’re ready for your signature.”

I ignored him, my eyes locked on my husband. “I know exactly what this meeting is. That’s why I came.”