Chapter 8 - THE DIVORCE PAPERS
Six weeks later, Stefan received the divorce petition.
He was standing in the rebuilt Toronto office of Voss Atlantic when the attorney delivered it.
Lucian watched from across the conference table.
Stefan opened the envelope.
Read every page.
Then signed the acknowledgment.
Lucian frowned.
"That's it?"
"What did you expect?"
"Something expensive and terrifying."
Stefan put down the pen.
"She wants a divorce."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Then fight."
Stefan looked through the window.
"No."
Lucian stared at him.
"You've changed."
"I've become extremely tired."
"Same thing at forty."
Stefan almost smiled.
Voss Atlantic had survived.
Barely.
Stefan surrendered several contracts, dissolved questionable subsidiaries and cooperated with investigators.
Armon Dry faced multiple financial charges.
Camille entered a cooperation agreement and disappeared from Stefan's life without another private conversation.
Tobias also cooperated.
The old empire was finished.
Something smaller remained.
Cleaner.
Stefan discovered he preferred it.
Elara remained in Nova Scotia.
She rented her own house instead of using Northglass.
That mattered to her.
She started an independent forensic accounting consultancy.
Within a month, she had more clients than she could handle.
Stefan saw Maeve every weekend.
He flew commercial twice because Elara had asked him to stop arriving with a convoy.
The first time, someone photographed him standing at baggage claim holding a diaper bag.
Lucian framed the article.
Stefan threatened to fire him.
Lucian reminded him he now owned twelve percent of the company and could not be fired.
On a snowy Saturday morning, Stefan arrived at Elara's house at 8:03.
She opened the door.
"You're early."
"Three minutes."
"That's early."
"I can wait outside."
"It's minus nine."
"I've survived worse."
Elara stepped aside.
"Come in, idiot."
Progress.
Maeve was awake in her bassinet.
Stefan removed his coat and washed his hands without being told.
Elara noticed.
She noticed too many things.
He no longer asked where she had been.
Never questioned who called.
Never sent security without permission.
Never entered her bedroom.
Never used Maeve as an excuse to extend visits.
He had become maddeningly respectful.
Sometimes she wanted him to fight.
That angered her even more.
That afternoon, while Maeve slept, Elara placed the divorce agreement on the kitchen table.
"Your attorney accepted everything."
"I told him to."
"The Oakville house."
"Yours if you want it."
"I don't."
"Then we'll sell it."
"Northglass."
"Already yours."
"Custody."
"Whatever schedule works for Maeve."
She frowned.
"You're making this very easy."
Stefan looked at her.
"Was I supposed to punish you for leaving me?"
"No."
"Then I'm not sure what you want."
Neither was she.
"Do you still love me?"
His expression changed.
"Yes."
"Then why aren't you fighting?"
He became very still.
"Because that's what I did before."
"What?"
"I confused fighting for you with having authority over you."
He looked at the papers.
"If I love you and you want to leave, then the most loving thing I can do may be to let you."
Elara hated the tears that came.
"Damn you."
"I know."
"No. You don't get to become emotionally intelligent now."
"Timing has never been my strength."
She laughed through the tears.
He smiled.
Then his smile disappeared.
"I am sorry, Elara."
"I know."
"No. I don't mean as a strategy."
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry I made you lonely inside a marriage. I'm sorry I taught you that my work would always come first and then proved even my betrayal could come before you. I'm sorry I made you carry our daughter while wondering whether you were enough."
Elara's face crumpled.
Stefan did not move toward her.
That mattered most.
He let her choose.
She crossed the space herself.
Not into his arms.
Not yet.
She simply rested her forehead against his chest.
Stefan closed his eyes.
His hands remained at his sides.
"Hold me," she whispered.
Only then did he.
Carefully.
No promises.
No declarations.
Just two exhausted people standing in a kitchen while their daughter slept.
Three days later, Elara signed the divorce agreement.
She cried afterward.
So did Stefan.
The divorce became final in March.
They walked out of the courthouse separately.
Stefan kissed Maeve's forehead.
Then looked at Elara.
"You're free."
The words hurt him.
She could see it.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
And walked away.
Elara stood on the courthouse steps watching him disappear into the crowd.
She had expected freedom to feel like victory.
Instead, it felt quiet.
Necessary.
Sad.
But necessary.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
"Elara Voss?"
"Technically Arden now."
"Ms. Arden, this is Daniel Reyes from the federal financial crimes unit."
Her stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"We've completed another review of the Dry records."
"And?"
"There is an account we can't explain."
Elara closed her eyes.
Not again.
Reyes continued.
"It's in your name."
Her eyes opened.
"What?"
"Forty-eight million dollars."
The courthouse steps seemed to tilt beneath her.
"That's impossible."
"The account was created seven years ago."
Seven years.
The year she married Stefan.
"Who funded it?"
A pause.
"According to the authorization records?"
Elara gripped the phone.
May you like
"Who?"
"Stefan Voss."
