a Sala

ting off his chiseled jaw. He was scrolling through financial news, oblivious

brief acknowledgment. Then he frowned. "You look terrible, Juliana. You should really get

countless milestones with him, the same table where he' d proposed. I sa

his tablet. He leaned back, crossing his arms, his posture

the polished table. They slid smoothly, a stark contrast to the

ession shifted from annoyance to shock. "What is this? You're waiving... all your ri

ything I own, should go directly to you. My company, my patents, my personal fortune." I paused, letting the words

.. the art collection? Your mother' s jewelry? The rare books?" He looked up again, his voic

... those are for Debbra. She has a much better eye for beauty, a finer appreciation for sentimentality, don't

d eyes narrowed into slits, suspicion hardening his handsome face. "What game are

r, almost lost in the sudden silence. "I'm tir

. He leaned forward, his voice barely audible. "Do you know?" he asked,

e looks at you. The hushed whispers. The perfume, always her perfume, on your clothes. The 'accidental' touches. Did you really think I wouldn't notice

The weight of his guilt, final

always striving. You always wanted someone softer, someone who would just agree, someone who would make your life easy." I paused, a bitter taste in my mouth. "And Debbra... she's so

s perfect for you, Dalt

ce a choked whisper, reaching ac