Chapter 7

Midnight.

The Agusta AW139 private helicopter sat on the manicured lawn of the Long Island estate.

The massive rotor blades spun, slicing through the freezing air. The deafening roar of the engine vibrated in Blair's chest.

She sat in the plush leather seat inside the cabin. She stared out the window at the dark, endless ocean below.

Blackburn sat directly across from her.

He unlatched his leather briefcase. He reached inside and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents.

He tossed the papers onto the small mahogany table between them.

"This is the transfer deed for the Cayman Islands trust fund," Blackburn yelled over the noise of the engine.

He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a solid black titanium credit card. He slapped it down on top of the papers.

"The card has no limit," he continued. His eyes were cold and calculating. "The trust generates enough liquid cash to pay off the SEC fines your father owes. Take it."

He leaned back in his seat. He crossed his arms. He looked like a king throwing scraps to a starving peasant.

He was trying to buy her submission. He was trying to pay her to stop talking about divorce.

But he didn't say a word about Kala. He didn't mention the fireworks in Disney. He didn't think he needed to explain his infidelity.

Blair looked at the black card.

A deep, hollow sadness washed over her.

She didn't reach for the money. She placed her hands flat on the edge of the mahogany table.

She pushed the table forward. The wheels squeaked against the floor tracks. She pushed it until the papers and the card were practically touching his knees.

She looked up. Her eyes met his.

"I don't want your money," Blair said. Her voice was steady, cutting through the mechanical roar. "I want my freedom."

Blackburn's face darkened. The muscles in his jaw bulged.

He thought she was being greedy. He thought she was holding out for a bigger piece of his empire.

He uncrossed his arms. He leaned forward. He reached deep into the bottom of his briefcase.

He pulled out an older, slightly yellowed document. It was over a hundred pages long.

He slammed it onto the table. The loud smack echoed in the small cabin.

It was their prenuptial agreement. The one she had signed three years ago under extreme duress.

Blackburn tapped his index finger hard against a specific paragraph on the first page.

"Read it," he commanded. His voice was pure venom. "If you file for divorce, you walk away with absolutely nothing. You leave with the clothes on your back."

Blair stared at the paper. She didn't blink.

"I know," she said.

Blackburn sneered. "You don't just leave with nothing, Blair. There is a penalty clause. If you initiate the split, you automatically forfeit any claim to marital assets, and you are legally required to reimburse the Gilbert trust for every single personal expense paid on your behalf over the last three years. That is roughly twelve million dollars."

He leaned closer. His dark eyes locked onto hers like a predator.

"Your family is already bankrupt. If you push this, I will call in that debt. I will personally make sure your brother Chaz goes to federal prison for the rest of his life."

Blair's breath hitched.

She bit down hard on her lower lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly flooded her mouth.

She looked at the man sitting across from her. He was a monster. He was using her brother's life to chain her to a dead marriage.

The helicopter suddenly dropped.

A pocket of severe turbulence hit the aircraft. The cabin shook violently.

Blackburn grabbed the armrests to steady himself.

Blair didn't move. She didn't reach for support.

She curled her fingers into tight fists. Her nails dug deep into her palms.

She closed her eyes. She shut out his face. She shut out the noise.

She made her decision. She would not let him win.