Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun

“I can make this easy for everyone,” she added, leaning in slightly, her heavy perfume filling the narrow space between us. “If you agree to a private financial settlement, twenty-five thousand dollars to cover my relocation, I will sign the divorce papers today and walk away.”
I looked at her face, searching for any sign of regret, but I found only the same cold calculation that had brought us to this hallway.
“I will not pay you to leave, Sable,” I said.
Her red fingernails dug into the leather of her purse, and she opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of heavy footsteps on the front porch interrupted her.
Frank Higgins pushed the heavy front door open, his leather briefcase in one hand and a thick blue folder in the other. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses as he stepped inside, his slow, legalistic gaze moving from Sable to me.
Sable turned her back on him, her shoulders stiffening under her coat as she stared at the wall.
“Am I interrupting?” Frank asked, his slow cadence filling the quiet foyer.