She walked in like a guest star in a show Diane thinks she’s producing.
James finally speaks, voice tight. “Helena, can we talk later?” he says.
You look at him, and your stomach goes cold in a familiar way.
Later has always been his favorite hiding place.
Later is where he stores apologies he never delivers and courage he never uses.
“No,” you say simply. “We talk now.”
Diane’s smile returns, sharper. “This is family time,” she says. “Not legal time.”
You glance at James. “Funny,” you say. “He’s the one who turned our marriage into a negotiation.”
James stiffens. “What does that mean?” he asks, but his eyes flick away.
And that’s the first tell.
Because he knows.
He just didn’t think you knew.
You set your knife down carefully, like you’re placing a final piece on a chessboard. “It means,” you say, “I received an email from your firm last week.”
Diane’s brows lift. “Your firm?” she repeats.
You don’t look at Diane.
You look at James.
“An internal memo,” you continue. “About ‘spousal exposure’ and ‘asset containment.’ With my name in the subject line.”
James’s face drains of color so fast it’s almost impressive.
Emma’s eyes widen. “James?” she whispers.
James swallows. “That’s—” he starts, then stops because denial has nowhere to land.
Diane’s voice turns brittle. “Helena, you’re imagining things,” she snaps.
You smile. “Am I?” you ask. Then you reach into your purse, slow enough for everyone to watch, and pull out a slim folder.
Diane’s breath catches like she didn’t expect props.
You open the folder and slide a single page across the table toward James.
It’s a copy of the prenup.
Not the whole document.
Just the part he never wanted anyone to read aloud.
Diane leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Where did you get that?” she demands.
You look at her. “From the attorney who drafted it,” you say. “The one you paid. The one who also had an ethical duty to ensure I understood what I signed.”
Diane’s lips part, furious. “That agreement protects James,” she says.
You nod. “It does,” you agree. “It protects him from me taking what he owns.”
Then you tap the page lightly.
“But it also protects me from being discarded without consequence.”
James’s fingers hover over the paper like it might burn him.
