DAY SEVEN: THE CLOSING
Seven days after Armstrong threw her out like garbage, Natalie walked into a title company conference room wearing a charcoal suit that whispered wealth in every thread.
Jennifer followed.
Two lawyers trailed behind them like quiet thunder.
Armstrong sat at the long table with his attorney. His suit was wrinkled. His face looked like someone who’d been negotiating with fear for a week and losing.
When he looked up and saw Natalie, his body went rigid.
“What are you doing here?” he choked.
Natalie pulled out the chair across from him and sat with deliberate calm.
“I’m here for the closing.”
Armstrong blinked. “The closing? You can’t be the buyer.”
Natalie folded her hands. “The anonymous LLC that made the cash offer. That’s mine.”
The color drained from Armstrong’s face like water down a sink.
“This has to be illegal,” he stammered. “Where would you even get two million—”
“Pocket change,” Natalie interrupted gently, opening her briefcase. She slid a folder across the table. “But before we finalize this sale, there’s something else you need to sign.”
Armstrong opened the folder with trembling hands.
Divorce papers.
Expensive legal stationery. Crisp lines. Clauses that didn’t beg. They ended.
“Sign,” Natalie said quietly. “Sign the deed transfer. Sign the divorce papers. And maybe I’ll consider not pursuing additional civil litigation.”
Armstrong’s mouth opened, closed.
His eyes flashed. “You planned this. The video to my office, losing my job, Sarah leaving… you orchestrated everything.”
Natalie’s voice remained calm, almost gentle. “I sent a video of what you did to the people who employed you. You hired thugs to beat your wife unconscious while you sat watching. You destroyed your own life, Armstrong. I just turned the lights on.”
“Please,” he whispered, the word breaking in half.
Natalie’s gaze sharpened. “You moved your legs so my blood wouldn’t touch your pants.”
Silence thickened.
Armstrong’s lawyer leaned close, whispering urgent advice.
Armstrong’s shoulders sagged. He reached for the pen as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
He signed the divorce papers.
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