Daniel called her attorney, David Vance, demanding an immediate sit-down meeting between both principals to discuss reconciliation options. Vance’s reply was curt and professional. “My client has instructed me that she will not meet with you under any circumstances.”
“Tell her I will give her the entire company if she stays,” Daniel pleaded through the receiver. “Tell her that.”
“Mr. Mercer,” Vance replied with dry professional detachment, “Mrs. Mercer explicitly informed me that your money is the least interesting thing about you. Sign the papers, or we will proceed to formal trial.”
Daniel lowered the phone, his fingers trembling as he stared through his panoramic window at Lake Michigan. Across the gray, choppy waters, winter was approaching fast, mirroring the barren season settling deep into his bones.
Weeks drifted into months, blurring together in a dreary haze of long office hours and silent, solitary evenings. Daniel signed the divorce papers without contesting a single clause, returning the deed of the Evanston home to Claire.
