The documents were fifty-three pages thick.
Elara turned each one with the same steady hand she'd once used to sign prenuptial agreements, merger filings, and the birth certificate of a marriage that had felt, for a brief window, like salvation.
Today, there was no salvation.
Only ink.
"Mrs. Harrington—" the trust officer began.
"Ms." Elara did not look up. "Ms. Ashford."
The officer paused. Adjusted her glasses. Made a small, silent notation on her tablet.
Across the table, Elara's independent counsel—a woman named Reyes, hired three days ago, paid in full, no Harrington connections—slid the next packet forward.
"Joint Harrington-backed accounts, New York and Zurich. You want full dissolution or merely removal?"
"Removal." Elara signed. "Let him keep the structures. I don't want my name on them."
Signature.
