Chapter 4

"Ms. Hayes, this is the final draft of the divorce agreement. Please review it."

Jared's lawyer slid the 14-page document across the table. I flipped straight to the asset division section.

Shares: Zero.

Real estate: Zero. (Purchased by the husband prior to the marriage).

Alimony: None.

Living expenses: Five thousand dollars a month for two years.

On the last page, there was a clause in tiny print: *"Non-Disclosure Agreement: The counterparty shall not disclose any technical information, trade secrets, or operational details of the company for ten years following the signing of this agreement. Any violation will result in a penalty of fifty million dollars."*

"Is this a joke?" I pushed the paper back, pointing at the NDA.

The lawyer's expression didn't change.

"Ms. Hayes, this is the best offer Mr. Sterling is going to give you. I suggest you consider it seriously."

"Best offer? Seven years of my marriage and career, and you're telling me it's worth five thousand a month?"

"Five thousand," the lawyer corrected me. "With strict NDA obligations."

My phone rang. It was Jared.

"Just sign it," he said.

"No."

"Chloe, what are you going to fight me with? The patents are reassigned, the shares are transferred, and your accounts are empty. What do you have left?"

"You know exactly who wrote those patents, Jared."

"Who wrote them? You think the law cares about who typed the code? The system says Scarlett is the inventor. Our legal team submitted all the paperwork with your signature. How are you going to prove it's a forgery?"

"Are you going to hire a lawyer? Oh, wait. I forgot. No lawyer in this city will take your call."

He let out a dry laugh.

"Take the five thousand a month. Sign it, and don't make me make things hard for your parents."

He hung up.

I sat in silence.

Ten minutes later, my mother called.

"Sweetheart, Sterling Tech's lawyers just sent your father’s company a cease-and-desist letter. They’re claiming some breach of contract in their supply chain."

"Your dad says it's fine, but... honey, they’re trying to pressure you. If you can't take it anymore, just tell us."

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"I can handle it. Tell Dad not to worry. I’ve got this."

I hung up.

The room was dead quiet.

Then, my screen lit up with a system notification. It wasn't Snapchat. It wasn't a text.

It was an automated alert from the internal admin system of the AI core.

*“Security credentials will expire in 72 hours. Please perform biometric renewal, including fingerprint, iris, and voice verification. Failure to renew will result in automatic degradation and shutdown of the core encryption module.”*

I used to get this notification every ninety days.

For seven years, without fail.

When I designed the architecture of the AI core, I built in a biometric lock. The master encryption key had to be manually re-authenticated with my biometric data every ninety days.

It was a security measure I designed to protect our data.

Jared knew nothing about the tech. He never cared how the backend worked. And Scarlett definitely had no clue—she was a secretary, not an engineer.

For the last seven years, no matter how late I worked, no matter how badly Jared and I fought, I always went to the server room to renew the credentials.

Because the system was my baby.

I stared at the notification for a long time.

Then, I swiped it away.

I picked up the phone and dialed Leo.

"Leo."

"Chloe?"

"When is Jared’s launch celebration party?"

"Three days from now, next Friday. He booked the Hillside Resort. He invited all the major VCs. They're doing a live demo of the AI platform."

"Perfect."

"In three days, don't do anything."

"Just watch."