Chapter 2Divorcing Me Is A Federal Crime

I pushed back my chair, intending to walk out and leave them to their petty theater.

A heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle with enough force to bruise.

"Did someone give you permission to stand up, Mercer?" Brandon leaned down, his breath reeking of expensive single-malt. "Let's make this simple. Option A: you take my lawyer's settlement and sign the dissolution papers right now. Option B: my private detail takes you out back to the service alley and breaks both your collarbones until your signature looks legible. You've got ten seconds."

I sat back down, completely relaxed. A quiet chuckle escaped my chest. "You really want to offer me choices, Brandon?"

Brandon grinned, utterly convinced he had cornered a rat. "Damn right. Take the buyout, and I'll make sure you can afford rent on a decent one-bedroom."

I looked down at the tablecloth, controlling the surge of adrenaline that always preceded an extraction.

"I'll sign the divorce," I said evenly. "And I don't want a penny of your family's dirty money. But..."

I lifted my eyes, holding his gaze until the smirk on his face flickered.

"...before I touch that pen, I need to make one secure call. Because my marriage isn't something I have the unilateral legal authority to dissolve."

Brandon threw his head back and laughed, waving to the table. "Did you hear that? The rent-a-cop needs permission from his supervisor! Who’re you calling, Mercer? Your shift manager at the mall?"

The table erupted into snickers.

"I told you," I continued, voice steady. "I agree to the divorce. But my operational profile requires authorization from executive leadership. Without that, this entire room is committing a federal offense."

Brandon’s face darkened, his patience wearing thin. He raised a fist, but Sierra quickly grabbed his forearm.

"Babe, don't get your hands dirty on him," she purred, looking at me with theatrical pity. "Let him make his pathetic little call. He’s just stalling because he thinks he can get an old friend to beg me to stay. Let him hear it from the horse's mouth. No one is changing my mind, Sam. We are done."

She honestly believed I was scrambling to save our marriage.

In five years, I had wired every cent of my hazard pay, overseas allowances, and classified stipends directly into her private checking account. She didn't work. She didn't cook. She spent her afternoons at high-end pilates studios and boutique spas in the city. The only trade-off was my operational absence.

And she had thrown it all away for the high school bully who had dumped her a decade ago.

The last trace of warmth in my chest died.

"Sierra, don't flatter yourself. I'm not calling anyone to plead for your return. I just find the two of you profoundly reckless. After this call goes through, I hope you don't regret this. Because when the fallout lands, not a single lawyer in this country will be able to shield you."

"Shut the hell up, Mercer," Brandon snapped. "Call your little boss. Let's see who's crying in five minutes."

I nodded. "Understood."

I pulled out my Department-issued encrypted satellite phone and hit speed dial one.