“The agreement is simple,” the family lawyer said smoothly. “You waive alimony, property rights, and any future claims. In return, the Whitmores will kindly refrain from releasing evidence of your… indiscretion.”
The pen slipped from Isabella’s hand and struck the table.
“Indiscretion?” she asked, voice steady. “I was never unfaithful.”
Harold Whitmore, the patriarch, sighed impatiently. “Daniel told us about your affair with that trainer. We have photographs. Sign now, or we make sure your reputation is destroyed. You won’t even get hired at a corner bakery.”
It was a fabrication. A strategy to avoid paying her a single dollar. Daniel knew it.
“Daniel,” Isabella said softly. “Look at me and say it.”
He turned at last, expression tense. “Just sign, Bella. Go back to your father’s garage. That’s your world. Not this.”
Something shattered inside her — but not her heart. Her fear.
She remembered her father, Victor. A man who came home with grease-stained hands and told her dignity could never be bought.
“Fine,” Isabella said quietly. “I’ll sign. But I need to make a call.”
Madison laughed. “Calling your dad to pick you up in his rusty truck?”
Isabella dialed anyway. “Dad… it’s happening.”