His Lesson Killed My Mother Now He Will Pay Chapter 07
Graham didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll suspend the joint account and revoke all your access to the apartment. As for the storm box and your other documents, my team will hold on to them until we can clarify the risks.”
*My team.*
I looked at him.
“And the marriage registration tomorrow?”
His expression softened, just as I’d expected, as if he’d finally gotten the surrender he was waiting for.
“That depends on you.”
Everyone at the table remained silent.
Even now, he still thought the worst thing that could happen to me was failing to marry into the Vale family.
I reached out and picked up the agreement.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Graham’s face. He took a black fountain pen from his suit jacket and set it in front of me.
“Sign on the last page. Then this is all over.”
I didn’t take it.
Instead, I pulled the red marker my mother always used from my bag, uncapped it, and drew a thick, jagged line straight through the signature block.
Then I gripped the paper with both hands.
*Riiip.*
The agreement split down the middle.
I lined up the torn halves and ripped them again.
The smile vanished from Sloane’s face.
Graham’s hand froze in midair, his expression darkening with every passing second.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
I tossed the four pieces of the agreement back onto the table. The red slash cut across the waivers, the authorization clauses, the confidentiality terms—a boundary no one could mistake.
“And you should, too. My mother’s belongings, and her story, are not yours to take.”
I turned and walked toward the door.
No one followed.
Graham didn’t move.
Only when my hand touched the doorknob did his voice, cold as ice, cut through the silence.
“If you’re not back by nine tomorrow morning to apologize, my lawyers will argue that everything you’ve ever told me is jointly created relationship content.”
I paused.
“Your distress calls, our conversations, your mother’s stories—it all happened within our relationship, and it all utilized Vale family resources.”
His voice had regained its usual composure.
“When that happens, you won’t even have the right to tell your own story of grief.”