Chapter 5- The Snap

LARA'S POV

Mr Collins from Marcus's office arrived early in the morning while the ward was still quiet. He was young, wore a grey suit, and moved efficiently. He set his briefcase on the chair beside my bed, opened it, and laid out two sets of documents on my blanket without wasting time on small talk. The first was the business acquisition papers Marcus had promised to send. The second was the divorce papers I had requested. He handed me a pen and pointed to the first pencil mark.

I worked through them carefully, page by page. I was almost done with the last signature when the door swung open.

I looked up and my hands stopped moving. Andre was standing in the doorway. He was not supposed to be here until the afternoon. He looked at me, then at Mr Collins, then at the papers spread across my blanket. His eyes stayed on the papers.

I had about two seconds.

"Andre," I said. I kept my voice easy and relaxed. "This is Mr Collins. He is from my insurance company. My father set up a surgical cover policy years ago and Mr Collins came to process the claim for my procedure." I looked at Mr Collins and nodded once.

Mr Collins did not miss a beat. He smiled at Andre and said it was a straightforward claim and that he was nearly finished. He started gathering the papers from the blanket. While Andre was looking at Mr Collins I slid the divorce papers out of the pile and pushed them flat under my blanket. Mr Collins collected everything else, snapped his briefcase shut, shook my hand, and told me the claim would be processed within the standard window. He nodded at Andre, said it was nice to meet him, and walked out.

Andre watched him leave. He stood near the door for a moment longer than necessary. Then he came in, pulled the chair close, and sat down.

"I did not know your father had a policy like that," he said.

"There are a lot of things my father set up that I am still finding out about," I said. I folded my hands on top of the blanket over the divorce papers and looked at him pleasantly.

He looked at my hands for a moment. Then he leaned back in the chair and his whole manner shifted into something I recognised from business dinners. Calm. Reasonable. Already certain of the outcome.

"I have been thinking about the arrangements for when you are discharged," he said. "I want to make sure you are comfortable." He paused like he was choosing his words carefully. "The main house is going to be Tasha and Dylan's home going forward. That is what makes the most sense for Dylan's stability. But the guest house on the property is fully furnished and completely private. You would have everything you need there."

I looked at him and said nothing.

"It is a good arrangement," he continued. "You would have full use of the kitchen and the garden. The staff would still be available to you." He said it the way someone describes a generous offer. Like I should be grateful. Like I had no other option and we both knew it.

I let him finish. I kept my face still and gave him nothing to read. He waited for a reaction and when he did not get one he shifted in his chair and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

He pulled out a folded set of documents and placed them on my blanket with a pen on top. "The company is going through a restructuring," he said. "It is just a routine shareholder update. I need all the family signatures before the end of the week. Nothing complicated. It will take you two seconds."

He pushed the pen closer to my hand before I had even touched the documents.

I picked them up. The first paragraph was enough. It was not a routine shareholder update. It was a full transfer of my shares in Castellano Holdings directly to Andre. Every single share. Signed away in two pages of language designed to look boring enough that nobody would bother reading it carefully.

He was still talking. Something about the restructuring timeline and how straightforward the process was. I was not listening anymore.

I put his documents down on the blanket. Then I reached underneath it.

I pulled out the divorce papers and placed them on top of his documents. I straightened them flat the same way he had done and put my pen on top and pushed the whole pile back across the blanket toward him.

"I want it done before I am discharged," I said. "My lawyer has already prepared everything. I just need your signature."

Andre did not move. He looked at the papers. He looked at my face. He looked back at the papers. I watched him trying to make sense of what was sitting in front of him. A woman with no income, no home, and a surgical incision that was still healing had just handed him divorce papers with a lawyer's letterhead on the top page.

He picked them up slowly. He read the first page. His jaw tightened but he said nothing for a long moment. Then he looked up at me.

"You have a lawyer," he said. His voice was very quiet. It was not a question.

"Yes," I said.

He set the papers down and leaned forward until his elbows were on his knees. "Where is the money coming from, Lara." Still not a question. Something colder than a question. "Who is paying for this."

I looked back at him and said nothing.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then something changed in his face. The calm reasonable version of Andre disappeared and something harder took its place. He stood up slowly and gathered his documents from the blanket. Then he picked up my divorce papers and folded them and put them inside his jacket pocket.

"You are not getting a divorce, Lara," he said. His voice was very quiet. "And whoever is funding this little plan of yours is going to regret it."

He walked out and closed the door behind him.

I waited until his footsteps faded completely down the corridor. Then I reached under my pillow and took out the phone and typed one message to Marcus.

He took the divorce papers. And he is looking for you.

Marcus replied in under a minute.

Good. Let him look. But Lara, listen to me carefully. He just made a move we did not expect. We need to accelerate everything. How soon can you get out of that hospital?