Chapter 207
I know that if I refuse, George will never let this go.
A custody battle would be inevitable.
And Mr. Lucas said that if George insists on fighting for custody, we'll face huge challenges.
Financial situation is one of the key factors the court considers.
George's wealth, power, and social status are far beyond mine.
Even if I risk everything, fight with all I have, what are my chances of success?
Mr. Lucas said he's eighty percent confident he could win.
But that remaining twenty percent meant Milly could be taken from me.
I could not take that gamble.
I couldn't bet Milly's future on that twenty percent possibility.
My fingers clenched around the agreement so hard my nails cut into my palm—sharp pain, but not even a fraction of the humiliation and hatred being carved into my heart.
I refuse to accept this.
Why?
George, you wronged me first. You enabled Sarah to hurt Milly. And now, even with the divorce, you have to twist the knife in my heart one more time.
All to clear a path for your precious love—you would trample me into the dirt and make me smile while choking on it.
Just as I was steeling myself to hold firm, Mr. Lucas arrived.
He walked quickly, his expression composed and professional. He first nodded at George and Clifford in greeting, then hurried to my side.
"Ms. Brown," he called me quietly, his eyes quickly scanning the open agreement in my hands, lingering especially on those bolded clauses.
His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then he gestured for us to speak privately.
I took a deep breath, forced myself to release my tightly bitten lip, and followed Mr. Lucas to a relatively quiet corner nearby.
"Ms. Brown," Mr. Lucas kept his voice very low, "I've seen the terms. I know you must feel terrible, very unwilling to accept this."
Seeing the humiliation and hatred churning in my eyes, he sighed, "But we must face reality. Mr. Smith came prepared today—lawyer, agreement, and possibly follow-up pressure tactics, he's got it all ready. If you refuse to sign today and reject these terms, this goes to court, and it will be very difficult."
He paused, his voice becoming even more serious, "Regarding Milly's custody, you know what I have told you."
"If Mr. Smith really spares no expense to fight for it, I don't have a hundred percent guarantee—maybe around eighty percent—that I can win for you."
"But the court's decision comes down to more than the child's wishes—it weighs the guardian's ability to provide. And on that point…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
My resources simply couldn't compare to George's.
In court, this would be my biggest liability.
The court's tendency is often just this realistic.
I bit my lower lip hard, even tasting a hint of rusty blood in my mouth.
The pain of my nails digging into my palm kept me barely conscious.
I understand all the reasoning.
Mr. Lucas's analysis was perfectly logical, every word hitting home.
He wasn't refusing to help me—not shirking his responsibility.
It was precisely because he wanted to help—because he understood the odds better than anyone, that he's choosing to advise me at this critical moment.
He has already done more than enough for me.
From gathering evidence to drafting the complaint to running to court repeatedly to communicate.
His skill was every bit a match for Clifford's on the opposing side.
Professionally, he has done everything he could for me.
But now, facing George's power and influence, facing the risk that might take Milly away from me, Mr. Lucas chose to advise me to back down temporarily.
Because we both knew I couldn't afford to lose.
I can't lose Milly again.
This helplessness, this humiliation of being forced into a corner yet having to bow my head, gnawed at my heart like poisonous insects.
My fists clenched so tight they cracked, knuckles white, wanting nothing more than to rush over and punch George in the face.
But I can't.
For Milly, I have to endure everything.
Just as I was tearing myself apart inside, Terry's nauseating voice rang out again, "Grace, what are you discussing with your lawyer? Don't tell me you're figuring out how to squeeze more money out of George?"
Terry stood with arms crossed, leaning against a nearby pillar, his face showing undisguised mockery and contempt.
"Let me tell you, know when to quit. George has been more than generous. Don't be shameless and push for more. Just sign it and stop wasting our time."
I whipped around and looked coldly at Terry, "Terry, George and I are getting divorced. Why are you even here?"
I looked him up and down, a deeply sarcastic smile curving my lips, "Anyone watching would think you're the one marrying him—hovering over someone else's divorce like this?"
"You—!" Terry's face instantly flushed red at my words, pointing at me, trembling with anger. "Grace! What nonsense are you spouting?"
In his humiliation and rage, he actually raised his hand, as if to strike me.
I looked at him coldly, standing still, not moving an inch, my eyes showing no fear, only icy mockery.
On George's side, Clifford frowned slightly.
Mr. Lucas also immediately stepped forward, positioning himself beside me.
Terry's hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at George's blank profile, then at the two lawyers' sharp expressions. In the end, he didn't dare actually strike, could only awkwardly lower his hand, muttering curses under his breath while glaring at me with venomous eyes.
I took a deep breath and forcefully pushed all the churning emotions back to the deepest part of my heart.
I walked back to face George.
He still sat there, posture relaxed, as if the earlier tension had nothing to do with him.
He was just a client waiting to confirm the outcome.
I picked up the heavy pen from the table, the cool metal touch making my fingertips tremble slightly.
I didn't look at those disgusting clauses again, just focused on the signature line.
Then I raised my hand and put pen to paper.
I wrote each stroke with extreme force, almost tearing through the paper.
Finished the first copy.
Then the second.
The scratching sound of pen on paper was particularly clear and jarring in the quiet corner of the restaurant.
Terry had been sulking over my comeback, but the moment he saw me actually pick up the pen and sign without hesitation, his anger gave way to shock.
His eyes widened, mouth slightly open, saying in confused amazement, "Wait, you're really signing?"
"Grace, aren't you George's lapdog? Shouldn't you be crying and begging him to stay? How can you just sign like this? You should hesitate more! You should be hugging his leg, begging him to change his mind!"
Terry seemed unable to understand my actions, unable to accept that I wasn't following the script he'd written in his head. He looked completely undone.
I glanced at him coldly, watching him look like his faith had collapsed, finding it both ridiculous and pathetic.
This person must have something wrong with his brain, thinking the whole world should revolve around his and George's will.
I ignored his crazy ramblings.
After signing both agreements, I pushed one copy back to Clifford and kept the other for myself.
Seeing me finish signing, George unhurriedly adjusted his suit cuffs, then stood up, preparing to leave.
"George."
I called out to him.
My voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet restaurant.
Terry, already at George's side ready to leave with him, heard me call George and his eyes suddenly lit up.
"George, see, I told you she couldn't really bear to divorce."
"Now she's calling you back, she must have regrets and wants to ask you to stay."