class, leaning toward Madison, confident that the photograph would be the last word.
Beneath it were the words he had sent with such certainty.
“Goodbye, loser.
I’m leaving you with nothing.”
Rachel deleted the thread.
Then she picked up the cream-colored folder from her desk.
The court papers inside were no longer urgent.
The operating agreement had been copied, filed, and secured.
The evidence had served its purpose.
Still, she kept the folder.
Not as a trophy.
As a reminder.
Ethan had believed her silence meant helplessness.
He had believed love erased ownership, absence erased contribution, and arrogance could rewrite a signature.
He had been wrong about all three.
Rachel placed the folder in a drawer and closed it.
Then she walked outside without looking back.
