The rain lashed against the tinted glass of my lawyer’s office, mirroring the storm raging inside my chest. I pushed open the heavy mahogany door of Richard Vance’s office, half-expecting to see a stack of standard divorce papers or asset division spreadsheets.

Six months later, the federal prison visiting room was as cold and gray as ever, but the man sitting inside it was a hollowed-out shell of his former self.

I had been sentenced to twelve years at Allenwood Federal Correctional Institution. Pleading guilty in exchange for turning state's evidence against Marcus and Vanessa hadn't saved me from a lengthy sentence; it had only spared me life behind bars. Marcus was currently serving twenty-five years for grand larceny and corporate racketeering, while Vanessa had received twelve years for money laundering and perjury.

The heavy steel door clanked open.

"Carter. Visitor."

I didn't look up. I assumed it was a public defender or some bureaucratic paper-pusher. But when the chair opposite me scraped against the linoleum floor, I raised my eyes.

It wasn't a lawyer.

It was Claire.

She looked more stunning than I had ever remembered. Her hair was loose, catching the fluorescent light, her eyes radiant with a quiet, untouchable strength. She wasn't wearing her wedding ring anymore. In its place was a heavy platinum band encrusted with diamonds—not a wedding ring, but a corporate signet.

"Claire," I whispered, my voice cracked from disuse. "Why are you here?"

She didn't smile, but her expression was remarkably serene. She reached into her leather bag, pulled out a manila envelope, and slid it across the metal table.

"What is this?" I asked, my hands trembling as I picked it up.

"Your divorce decree," Claire said quietly. "And a final corporate settlement."

I opened the envelope. Inside were the papers, finalized and signed by a federal judge. But beneath them was a single glossy photograph.

It was a picture of Noah. He had grown so much. He was standing on a sunlit lawn in front of a sprawling estate in Nantucket, holding a small blue teddy bear, laughing up at a man standing just out of frame—a tall, kind-eyed man wearing a casual linen shirt.

My heart seized. A white-hot flash of blind jealousy and rage tore through my chest.

"Who is that?" I snarled, slamming my fist against the table. "Who the hell is that with my son?!"

Claire didn't flinch. She looked at me with profound pity—the most devastating weapon she could have possibly deployed.

"His name is David," Claire said evenly. "He’s a pediatrician. He met Noah at the community center six months ago, right after I took the reins of Carter Logistics. He loves my son. He reads to him every night. He holds his hand when he's sick. And most importantly... he respects me."

"He’s raising my son!" I shouted, ignoring the guards stepping toward our table. "That’s my boy! You can't just replace me!"

"You didn't replace yourself, Julian," Claire said softly, standing up and smoothing down her jacket. "You abandoned him the moment you decided your ego and your mistress were worth more than your family. I didn't steal your son from you. You gave him away."

"Claire, please!" I begged, tears streaming down my face as I lunged toward the glass partition. "Don't do this! Give me another chance! I'll change! I swear to God—"

"Goodbye, Julian," she said, turning her back to me without a backward glance.