It claimed Hartwell Innovations had always been Preston’s separate property and that I had voluntarily surrendered any interest in its appreciation.
Rina tapped the page with one finger.
“This is why they need your signature now,” she said.
“The old document is meant to make the new agreement look routine.
If you accept the money, you help validate the forgery.”
My mother covered her mouth.
“What happens if she refuses?”
“Then we find out what Preston is trying so desperately to hide before next month.”
Rina photographed the envelope, scanned every page, and sealed the originals inside an evidence bag.
She instructed my parents to save the security footage showing the courier’s arrival.
Then she asked me to turn on my phone.
It took several minutes for the notifications to load.
Preston still had not called, but there were old messages from him about the pregnancy.
One had been sent after our twenty-week scan.
Keep all baby news private until the merger closes.
I cannot have distractions right now.
Another came after I asked whether he would attend the next appointment.
Handle it with Brennan.
I am in meetings.
Rina read both messages twice.
“He knew there was a child,” she said.
“Yet his agreement says none is expected.”
A third message had arrived that afternoon from an unknown number.
Sign the papers, Amara.
Do not make this uglier than it needs to be.
There was no name, but I recognized Preston’s habit of using my name in the middle of a warning.
Rina told me not to answer.
The following morning, she filed for divorce on my behalf.
The petition confirmed my pregnancy, challenged the forged acknowledgment, and requested emergency orders preventing Preston from moving unusual amounts of money or destroying financial records.
She also notified Hartwell Innovations that its corporate legal team had delivered documents concerning the CEO’s personal divorce and that one of those documents appeared fraudulent.
That notification changed everything.
The envelope had not come from a private matrimonial firm.
Preston had used attorneys paid by his corporation to pressure his pregnant wife into waiving marital rights.
By noon, Hartwell Innovations’ general counsel sent a careful response stating that the company had not authorized any forged document and would preserve all relevant records.
By two, the law firm that mailed the envelope announced it was withdrawing from representing Preston personally.
At four seventeen, my husband finally called.
Rina was sitting beside me when his name appeared.
“Answer,” she said.
“Speakerphone.
Say as little as possible.”
I pressed the button.
“Amara.” Preston’s voice was cold, not concerned.
“What have you done?”
It was the first time he had spoken to me since appearing on television with another woman’s ring beneath his hand.
“I filed for divorce.”
“You were supposed to sign the agreement.”
“I did not agree to it.”
“Twelve million dollars is more than fair.”
“Our daughter was listed as nonexistent.”
There was a pause.
Then he exhaled as if I were being unreasonable.
“That language can be corrected.”
“She is not a typographical error.”
His voice sharpened.
“Do you understand what your filing will do to the merger? The company employs thousands of people.”
“You announced another wedding while still married to me.”
