The conference room on the twenty-second floor of Raymond Holt's building had a long glass table and a view of the city that Grant had probably chosen deliberately.

He was already seated when Natalie and I arrived, his hands folded in front of him, his expression arranged into something that was almost reasonable.

Tessa was not present.

That was the first thing I noticed.

Raymond Holt was a tall man in his late fifties with silver hair and the careful posture of someone accustomed to being the most composed person in the room.

He stood when we entered and extended his hand to Natalie.

"Ms.

Brooks."

"Mr.

Holt."

We sat.

The room was very quiet.

Holt opened a folder.

"My client appreciates the opportunity to reach a resolution that serves the best interests of the family.

He has prepared a proposal—"

"Before we discuss the proposal," Natalie said, "I want to establish a few points of record.

The Alderman Road property is currently subject to both a marital asset freeze and a separate fraud claim filed by Daniel Calloway.

The Hargrove Capital sale has been voided.

These are not negotiating positions.

They are facts."

Holt nodded carefully.

"Understood."

"The forensic accounting report documents three hundred and twelve thousand dollars in marital funds directed toward a third party over a period of three years," Natalie continued.

"That figure will be central to any equitable distribution discussion."

Grant's jaw moved slightly.

He had not looked at me since I sat down.

"My client acknowledges that certain expenditures—" Holt began.

"Certain expenditures," Grant said quietly.

He said it to the table, not to anyone in the room.

It was the first time he had spoken.

Holt glanced at him.

"My client," Holt continued, "is prepared to offer the following.

Full primary physical custody to Mrs.

Calloway.

Structured visitation on alternating weekends and one evening per week.

Child support at the statutory guideline rate.

The marital home transferred to Mrs.

Calloway with the mortgage assumed by her.

A cash settlement of—"

"The marital home," I said.

Everyone looked at me.

I had not planned to speak yet.

"The marital home has a mortgage that Grant told me was paid off two years ago," I said.

"Diane Marsh's report shows the mortgage was refinanced eighteen months ago and the cash-out proceeds were transferred to an account I was not aware of.

I'm not assuming a mortgage that was refinanced to fund another woman's apartment."

The room was very quiet.

Grant looked at me for the first time.

His expression had not changed, but something behind it had shifted.

"Mara," he said.

It was the voice he used when he wanted to sound patient.

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

"I'm not making it hard," I said.

"I'm being accurate."

Natalie set a document on the table and slid it toward Holt.

"Our counter-proposal.

The marital home is to be sold at market value, proceeds split equitably after accounting for the three hundred and twelve thousand in dissipated marital assets.

The Alderman Road property is excluded from the marital estate pending resolution of Daniel Calloway's fraud claim.

Child support above guideline rate given the documented income Grant has obscured through the Hargrove transaction.

And full reimbursement of attorney fees."

Holt read it without expression.

Grant read it over his shoulder.

"This is not reasonable," Grant said.

"It's precise," Natalie said.

"You're trying to leave me with nothing."

"You moved three hundred and twelve thousand dollars out of your family's accounts," I said.

"You falsified an appraisal to defraud your brother out of his inheritance.

You attempted to use your children as leverage in a custody motion your own evaluator described as tactical." I kept my voice level.

"I'm not trying to leave you with nothing, Grant.

I'm trying to leave you with exactly what you left me with."

Grant leaned forward.

"You think you've won something.

You haven't.

The property claim will take years.

Daniel will settle.

Hargrove will come back to the table when the freeze lifts.

You've delayed things.

That's all."

"Maybe," I said.

"But Friday came and went."

His mouth closed.

Holt put his hand briefly on Grant's arm.

A professional, restraining gesture.

"We'll need time to review the counter-proposal," Holt said.

"Of course," Natalie said.

"You have five business days before we file for a formal hearing."

We stood.

I picked up my bag.

I did not look at Grant again as we walked to the door.

In the elevator, Natalie said nothing until the doors closed.

Then she said, "Friday came and went.

That was good."

"I've been saving it," I said.

She almost smiled.