I said nothing.
Instead, I opened my handbag, took out the house keys, and placed them on the mediator’s desk with a soft metallic click. Then I withdrew two blue passports, crisp and ready, the visas already stamped inside. I laid them beside the keys and looked directly at Ryan.
“The children and I are leaving for Paris today,” I said.
His smile vanished instantly. “Paris?” he repeated. “With what money?”
Sophia let out a laugh. “Please. Elena can’t even—”
The office door opened before she could finish. The receptionist stepped aside, and a uniformed driver in a black coat entered with the kind of composed efficiency that belongs to people who work for old money or serious power. He inclined his head politely.
“Mrs. Elena,” he said, “your car is ready.”
Ryan stared at him, then at me, then through the office window toward the street below. A sleek black Audi idled at the curb, polished to a mirror shine.
For the first time all morning, Ryan looked uncertain.
