Chapter 6 - The Weight of Gold
The signing was completed in complete silence.
Victoria Sterling took the signed documents, verified my signature with a notary stamp, and then produced a heavy paper shredder from the side closet. In front of my eyes, she fed every single page of the tax audit binder—the shell filings, the wire transfer receipts, the Delaware incorporation records—into the teeth of the machine until it was reduced to a mound of grey, unreadable confetti.
“The physical copies are destroyed, Mr. Vance,” Victoria said smoothly. “And the digital files have been permanently wiped from our secure servers under the terms of the non-disclosure covenant.”
I handed the gold pen back to her, turned around, and looked at Claire.
She was standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the green expanse of Central Park far below. She had her leather handbag over her shoulder, ready to leave.
“Claire,” I said softly.
She turned around, her posture relaxed, her eyes clear. “Yes, Marcus?”
I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out her platinum wedding band, and laid it gently on the edge of Victoria’s glass desk.
“You forgot this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Claire looked at the ring for a long second. She didn't pick it up. She didn't touch it.
“I didn't forget it, Marcus,” she said softly, looking back up into my eyes. “I left it behind because it belongs to a life that doesn't exist anymore.”
She walked toward the heavy glass door of the office, stopping just before she pulled it open.
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“Your first visitation weekend is November fourteenth,” she said, her voice dropping into a gentle, quiet tone. “Be at the Westchester Family Center at ten o'clock sharp. Don't be late, Marcus. Noah gets tired around noon.”
She walked out of the room, her leather heels making soft, quiet sounds against the marble floor, leaving me standing alone in the grand corner office.
