[David’s POV]Alice finally picked up the document. She flipped through it slowly. I watched her fingers… her nails were cut short, and there was an old scar on the web of her hand. These hands had performed surgeries, written papers, held Camila, and signed divorce agreements.Now, once more, they’re about to sign this document.“Article Seven,” she said suddenly, “the education fund?”“For Camila,” I said, “full coverage from kindergarten through a PhD. The trust account has already been set up, separate from my assets. No one can freeze or access it — not even me.”She looked up. “How much?”“Twenty million,” I said. “Dollars. Plus, a monthly living allowance of fifty thousand, deposited into your account until Camila comes of age. This money comes with no strings attached — you don’t need to report how you spend it to me, no receipts are required.”Alice put the documents down.She looked at me, her eyes unreadable. It wasn’t emotion, anger, or sarcasm. It was a quiet, almost clin
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