“I don’t work for you.”
“No,” Diana replied.
“But you came voluntarily into a legal meeting concerning a marriage you involved yourself in.
If you leave, leave.
If you stay, don’t insult Claire in my office again.”
Natalie’s face tightened.
For several seconds she remained standing.
Then Sebastian said, without looking at her, “Go.”
Natalie froze.
“Sebastian.”
“Go.”
She stared at him as though waiting for him to remember which side they had been on together.
He did not look up.
Natalie picked up her gloves.
At the door she turned.
“You think sending me away fixes this?”
Sebastian finally met her eyes.
“No.”
The word came out exhausted.
“I think nothing fixes this.”
Natalie left.
The door clicked shut.
Sebastian remained still for several seconds.
Then he placed both hands over his face.
Diana had seen powerful men perform remorse before.
She knew the difference between grief and strategy.
Strategy looked for an audience.
Strategy checked the reaction.
Sebastian did neither.
His shoulders began to shake.
The first sound he made was small and broken, almost angry.
Then he bent forward over the table and cried.
Not elegantly.
Not like the controlled billionaire whose photograph appeared in financial magazines.
He cried like a man who had spent years believing consequences belonged to people with less power.
Diana let him.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were red.
“I love her.”
Diana did not comfort him.
“You behaved as though that fact required nothing from you.”
Sebastian swallowed.
“I know.”
“No.
You know now.”
He looked at Claire’s timeline again.
“Can I write to her?”
“You can give the letter to me.
I’ll tell her it exists.
She decides whether she reads it.”
He nodded.
“Can I ask one thing?”
Diana waited.
“Did she cry when she left?”
Diana thought of Claire sitting in her kitchen the previous night, one hand on her stomach, the gray folder beside her.
Claire had been exhausted, pale, and terribly calm.
“No,” Diana said.
