Maurice was genuinely surprised.

Elodie was being all businesslike?

Cold, detached, as if they were discussing a merger and not the end of a

marriage.

But that veneer cracked in an instant.

A faint crease appeared between Elodie’s brows as she scanned the rest of the agreement. Whatever charitable assumptions she’d made about Jarrod’s intentions vanished without a trace.

She’d found the other two conditions.

The first: for one year, she was forbidden from telling Henrietta the truth about the divorce.

The second: unless Jarrod gave explicit permission, she was not allowed to reveal to anyone that they’d been married for three years, nor was she allowed to disclose the exact date of their divorce.

If she broke the terms, Jarrod had the right to defend his reputation and reclaim the house, the shops, the financial settlement-everything he’d promised her. And if she breached the agreement, he could demand “reasonable compensation.” The definition of “reasonable” would be up to Jarrod.

Elodie’s fingers curled slowly into a fist. She looked up at him across the table.

“What does this mean?” Her voice was cool, but there was steel beneath it.

Jarrod regarded her with the same practiced indifference. “Which part don’t you understand? Albin can clarify for you, if you want.”

“Why can’t we tell your grandmother the truth?”

“She’s not in good health,” Jarrod replied, his tone almost gentle. “I hope you understand.”

Elodie drew in a slow breath. “And the other clause?”

Jarrod’s eyes flickered, just a hint of a smirk. “It’s exactly what it says.”

Elodie almost laughed. She knew perfectly well what that clause was about.

He wasn’t preventing her from disclosing their marriage or the date of their divorce to protect himself. This was all for Sylvie to preserve her pristine reputation.

If no one knew when Sylvie had come into the picture, no one could accuse her of being the other woman. The timeline would simply vanish.

Jarrod was bending over backward to keep Sylvie’s hands clean.

Elodie exhaled, her composure returning. “And if I refuse to sign?”

“If you agree to the terms, this ring goes back to its rightful owner.” Jarrod set a delicate, vintage ring box on the table with an air of nonchalance.

Elodie stared at the box. She recognized it instantly-the Thorne family heirloom ring.

She never would have guessed.

All that effort to bring Baxter here, to negotiate the return of the ring, had been for nothing. Jarrod had intended to use it as leverage all along.

A chill ran down her spine. For the first time, she wondered if Jarrod had bought the ring for Sylvie at the charity gala simply out of kindness or if he’d planned from the very start to use it as a bargaining chip against her.

The clause about keeping the truth from his grandmother meant Elodie would have to play along with Jarrod’s charade, surrendering a measure of her freedom. The other condition was even more insidious-a silent pressure, forcing her, the discarded wife, to protect the reputation of the woman who had replaced her.

Now she understood. The generous terms Jarrod had offered weren’t out of fairness-they were hush money, insurance to keep Sylvie’s image untarnished.

It looked magnanimous, but really, it was all about Sylvie.

Elodie’s expression didn’t change, but her chest rose and fell with the weight of it. “Ms. Thorne, what’s there to hesitate about?” Maurice grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Go on, sign it.” He was clearly enjoying the drama, convinced that Elodie was only making trouble to get Jarrod’s attention. He wanted to see how far she’d take the act.

Baxter leaned in as well. “Ms. Thorne, if you’re not satisfied, you don’t have to sign today. I can negotiate with Mr. Silverstein again, see if we can get better terms.”

Of course, Baxter knew the truth: Jarrod’s wealth was immense, but he was a businessman. No one walked away with this kind of settlement unless he allowed it. Elodie would have to decide if she could live with his terms.

Elodie lowered her gaze.

The woman she used to be would never have accepted these demands. Back then, she would have found them humiliating, an insult she’d never sign her name

to.

But things had changed.

Her health had changed.

She didn’t have the time or strength to fight Jarrod anymore.

“Give me the pen.” Elodie made her decision in a heartbeat, reaching out to Baxter for his pen. Without a word, in front of everyone, she signed her name with a steady hand.

Her face was impassive, her movements decisive.

Maurice’s grin froze in place, his certainty shattering. He stared at Elodie, stunned.

She’d actually signed?

She really signed.