Chapter 84
Rowan's POV
I thought about Lena. About the divorce papers she'd signed without hesitation, without demands for compensation or claims that I'd misled her. She'd had far more reason to feel cheated than Claire Mendoza—I'd given her two years of emotional distance while taking everything she offered.
But Lena had just walked away.
Because that's what adults did when things didn't work out. They didn't weaponize the legal system to punish their exes for failing to live up to unspoken expectations.
I pulled out my phone and called our chief legal officer. "Thornton. I need you to draft a response letter. Tonight."
"To whom?"
I took a breath. "Grant & Clarke Law Firm. Attention Diana Clarke and Lena Grant."
A pause. "Your ex-wife's firm?"
"Yes."
"What's this about?"
"Defending someone who doesn't deserve to be destroyed." I pulled up the demand letter on my screen. "Draft a response. Make it clear that Jack Harrison has extensive documentation disproving their client's claims. Point out every factual inconsistency. And warn them that if they proceed with this baseless suit, we'll counter-sue for malicious prosecution."
"That's aggressive."
"They started it." I stared at the cufflinks on my desk. "Make it professional but firm. I want them to understand we're not settling. This case ends here, or it goes to trial and we bury them."
"Understood. I'll have a draft in two hours."
After I hung up, I picked up the cufflinks again, turning them over in my hands. Lena had noticed details about my life that I'd barely registered myself. She'd put thought and care into a gift that represented everything I'd taken for granted.
And now I was about to send a hostile legal letter to her firm.
The irony was so sharp it drew blood.
---
Saturday morning arrived grey and cold. I was at my desk by seven, too restless to stay home, too focused on what was coming to do anything else.
Thornton arrived at eight-thirty with the draft. I read it twice, sharpened the language in three places, then signed off.
The letter was perfect—professional, devastating, and backed by irrefutable evidence. It laid out Jack's defense methodically: the job offer that predated any relationship discussions, the layoff notice that proved Claire's career was already in jeopardy, the moving invoice that showed her apartment was chosen for proximity to work, not to Jack.
It pointed out that Claire had ended the relationship, not Jack. That she'd been the one to demand more than he could give. That her current narrative was contradicted by her own messages.
And it warned, in carefully legal language, that proceeding with this suit would result in consequences.
"Send it directly to Diana Clarke," I said. "Copy Lena Grant as a courtesy, since it's her firm."
Thornton nodded. "Done. For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. This case is garbage."
"Then why did they take it?"
He shrugged. "Maybe they believed their client. Maybe they didn't look hard enough at the facts. Or maybe they're so invested in a particular narrative that they stopped caring about the truth."
After he left, I pulled up the letter one last time:
Dear Ms. Clarke and Ms. Grant,
We write on behalf of Jack Harrison in response to your demand letter dated May 15th regarding allegations of promissory fraud by your client, Claire Mendoza.
After thorough review of all available evidence, we must inform you that your client's claims are not supported by the facts. Mr. Harrison has provided extensive documentation proving:
1. Ms. Mendoza relocated to Silverton for career advancement, not because of any promises made by Mr. Harrison. She accepted a position with Silverton Tech Solutions on March 20th—before discussing her move with Mr. Harrison and before any alleged promises were made.
2. Ms. Mendoza's previous employer, Portland Analytics Group, had issued layoff notices to her department in February. Her relocation was not a "sacrifice" but a strategic career move away from an unstable employment situation.
3. Ms. Mendoza's new residence is located 8 minutes from her office and 42 minutes from Mr. Harrison's home, as documented by the enclosed moving invoice. This contradicts claims that she relocated to be near Mr. Harrison.
4. Text message records show that Ms. Mendoza initiated the termination of their relationship in July, stating "I need someone who can give me what I'm looking for." This directly contradicts claims of abandonment.
5. Mr. Harrison made no promises of marriage, cohabitation, or long-term financial support. All communications between the parties have been preserved and are available for review.
We find your allegations of fraud to be entirely without merit and potentially defamatory to Mr. Harrison's character. We strongly urge you to review your client's claims with appropriate scrutiny before proceeding.
Should you choose to file this lawsuit, we will vigorously defend Mr. Harrison and pursue all available counterclaims, including malicious prosecution, abuse of process, and defamation. We will also seek recovery of all legal fees and costs.
We expect your response within 48 hours confirming that this matter will not proceed further.
Respectfully,
Peter Thornton
Chief Legal Officer
Reynolds Industries
cc: Rowan Reynolds, CEO
I authorized the send.
The email went out at 9:47 AM, landing in both Diana Clarke's and Lena Grant's inboxes simultaneously.
I imagined Lena reading it—those grey eyes scanning each carefully constructed paragraph, that brilliant legal mind immediately grasping the implications. Would she be surprised to see my company's name? Would she recognize my hand in this, even though Thornton had drafted it?
Would she remember the cufflinks she'd given me? The ones I'd never worn?
My phone buzzed. Colin.
Heard you're going to war with your ex-wife's firm. This should be interesting.
I didn't respond. I just slipped the cufflinks back into my pocket and turned to stare out at the grey Silverton skyline, wondering if Lena would fight for this case or if she'd see through it the way I had.
Wondering if, when we finally faced each other across a conference table, she'd look at me and see anything other than the man who'd never bothered to notice her gifts until it was too late.
The rain started, drops streaking down the windows like accusations I couldn't answer.