Page 88 of Rulebreaker
“Well, there’s one specific thing we need to discuss.”
“We don't have anything to discuss,” I grit out. “After the funeral, you can meet with my attorney and–”
“You violated the prenup. Meaning you’re not entitled to anything. Therefore–”
“Therefore, you meet with my attorney and sort it out.” I’m in no mood to get into a pissing contest with him.
“I’m willing to be reasonable.”
“Harrison, you’ve never been reasonable in your entire life,” I mutter.
“That’s why I’m the administrator of the will and you’re–”
“Richer than you.” I level a look of what I hope is some combination of intimidation and confidence in his direction. “Smarter than you. And Stan liked me better than you.” That last part was petty but that’s too bad.
Harrison isn’t offended, but I don't careeither way.
“You wouldn’t be where you are without Stan, so now it’s time to–”
“Time to what?” I demand, putting my coffee cup down with a thump so hard drops of liquid splash onto my hand and the table. “I’ve paid for whatever his insurance didn’t cover. I made sure he was safe and comfortable. And I never took a dime, so don’t start with me.”
“Start with you?” His chuckle is menacing. “Honey, I’m not only going to start with you–I’m going to finish you.”
“As I’ve said repeatedly, we’re going to take this up with attorneys, not here in the house before Stan is even buried.”
“You’re not getting a dime. Once my private investigator brings all the evidence to the judge, you’re going to owe Stan’s estate millions.”
I narrow my gaze. “That’s not how prenups work.”
“But it’s how your separation agreement works.”
Trepidation worms its way through my gut, momentarily giving me pause.
It’s been years since Stan and I signed that separation agreement. The deal was for us to be discreet for three years. After that we would make a joint statement about the end of our marriage and how we’re ending as friends. But the disease hit him hard within a year, and at the three-year point, there was no way for him to make any statements, much less something thoughtful and articulate.
My attorney assured me that I was free to do whatever I wanted,withwhomever I wanted, but I was never interested in getting serious with anyone.
Until Atlas.
And I tried to be discreet at first but for whom? Stan wouldn’t know either way, wewerelegally separated, and we passed that three-year mark a long time ago.
“I see the wheels turning.” Harrison’s gaze darkens. “Youknow I’m right, and you know that screwing around with Atlas Delarosa while the whole world watched is going to wind up being a very costly mistake.”
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat, forcing myself to hold my ground.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
Did I?
The details of the separation agreement are sketchy because it’s been so long. My lawyer told me everything was in order and I didn’t think about checking because…why? Because I was just biding my time, waiting for the ten years on the prenup to run out.
“At the moment, all I know is that I have to bury my husband,” I say quietly. “And that I’d like you to leave.”
“It doesn’t have to be acrimonious,” he insists, leaning toward me with a shit-eating grin. “Twenty million and I’ll–”
“You’re out of your mind.” I meet his steely gaze with one of my own, despite the headache forming behind my eyes and the nausea threatening to erupt.
“It’s a drop in the bucket for you.”
