Thad stared at me.
Predators understand screaming.
They understand pleading.
They understand bargaining.
What they do not understand is prey that watches the knife descend without blinking.
“You aren’t going to ask why?” he said.
“No.”
“You’re entitled to an explanation.”
“No, Thad.”
I looked directly into his slate-gray eyes.
“I’m entitled to a divorce.”
Marisol shifted her weight.
Something passed between them.
Not confidence anymore.
Uncertainty.
Thad gathered the papers.
“Talia Brennan will receive the formal filing before noon. Don’t contact Mother. She needs complete quiet while the transplant stabilizes.”
“Of course.”
“Any communication involving the Bromel family will go through counsel.”
“Perfect.”
His eyes narrowed.
Perhaps that was the exact moment he finally understood that my silence was not defeat.
But it was too late.
He and Marisol walked into the hall.
