But this time, the task truly seemed impossible.
He was now staring at the seventy–first version of the divorce agreement, revised over and over again with the legal team.
Yet…
It still hadn’t passed.
At first, when Jonathan told Terence the original agreement wouldn’t do and demanded a brand new one, Terence hadn’t been surprised. He didn’t even think it would be difficult.
Jonathan’s instructions were clear: remove the clause about transferring ten percent of The Thomas Group’s shares.
Terence did exactly that. But that was when the nightmare began.
For the next two weeks, he and the entire legal team had done nothing but revise the divorce agreement, again and again.
Submit a draft, get it rejected, revise. Submit again, rejected again. The cycle never
ended.
Now, this was the seventy–first version.
And still, it hadn’t passed.
The worst part was, Terence had no idea what was wrong.
Jonathan refused to tell him what needed fixing.
Terence had asked–more than once. But Jonathan just told him to figure it out
himself.
Sometimes Terence wondered if Jonathan actually wanted the divorce at all.
First there was the three–billion–dollar settlement–an astronomical sum. Then the ten percent stake in The Thomas Group. Maybe all of it was just a ploy to make Niamh change her mind and call off the divorce.
But Terence would never dare say that out loud–or even ask.
It didn’t make sense anyway.
This was Jonathan–when had he ever been afraid of divorce?
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Besides, Marina was right there, waiting in the wings.
Terence couldn’t make sense of it no matter how he tried.
Later that evening, he submitted the seventy–second version. Still rejected. By now, he wasn’t even discouraged anymore. He’d grown numb to it.
Jonathan wasn’t deliberately trying to make things hard for Terence.
Although, from Terence’s perspective, it absolutely felt intentional.
He glanced at his custom wristwatch. It was almost ten at night, but Jonathan still hadn’t left his office.
He was waiting for that new version of the agreement.
Outside, night had fallen deeply. In the quiet, sparsely populated new neighborhood, only a few apartment windows glowed with light.
The adjacent playground, bustling with children in the summer, was deserted now–December was just around the corner, and at this hour, the place was utterly
empty.
But tonight was different.
Michael hadn’t expected Marina to ask him to meet here.
Bundled in a thick, midnight–blue wool coat, he sat awkwardly on a narrow children’s swing. It was hardly comfortable.
“Michael!”
Marina arrived fashionably late, waving as she called out to him.
She’d done it on purpose–partly to spend extra time getting ready, partly to make herself seem more desirable.
Michael looked at her, his eyes–soft behind the gold–rimmed glasses–lingering.
Marina wore pastel pinks from head to toe, as if she’d never aged beyond high school.
He’d always been drawn to her sweet, innocent style. But tonight, for some reason, the spark just wasn’t there.
Unexpectedly, Michael found himself thinking of Niamh.
Her style couldn’t have been more different from Marina’s. Niamh dressed
simply–clean lines, subtle makeup, an understated confidence that felt refreshing
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and new.
Michael couldn’t help but smile, remembering how Niamh had thrown him over her shoulder earlier today–he’d landed flat on his back, arms and legs flailing.
Seeing Michael grin, Marina struck a playful pose in front of the swing.
Ever since Jonathan had gotten suspicious last time, she didn’t dare meet Michael at a bar anymore.
That’s why she’d picked this spot.
But it was Michael who had reached out and asked to meet.
“So… why did you want to see me?”
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