"If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself for not measuring up to Miles—or matching the status I have now."
I looked at her earnest face.
I shook my head and let out a quiet laugh. "You really have no idea what you're throwing away."
"Enough!"
Spencer's patience snapped. He slapped two documents onto the table.
One was a divorce agreement.
The other was a compensation offer: a small two-story house in the countryside and a thousand dollars a month in living expenses.
Three years of everything I had. I'd taken a crumbling, insignificant Henson Group and built it into a top-three company in the city.
And all I got in return were two sheets of paper.
What a joke.
"A thousand dollars is more than generous, Jacob. Fits your station perfectly."
Miles sneered again.
"If you won't sign, you won't see a single cent!" Spencer threatened.
Every gaze in the room bore into me—cold, predatory, as if they wanted to tear me apart.
"Dad!" Marlene shot her father a look. "Jacob may not have achieved much, but he put in the work."
Then she turned to me with a sigh. "If you have conditions, name them."
"Forget it."