Scarlett's Pov
I watched Richard’s trembling hands as they hovered over the divorce papers, the pen shaking between his fingers.
The once-cocky smirk he’d flashed at me in court had been replaced by a pitiful, terrified expression that I found both satisfying and pathetic. His bloodied knuckles grazed the edge of the paper, but he was careful not to let a single drop of his blood smear the documents—just as I’d instructed.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other as a satisfied smile crept across my face. It was poetic justice, watching the same man who had tried to strong-arm me into giving him half of my properties now groveling and beaten, his ego as bruised as his face.
When he finally scrawled his shaky signature at the bottom of the last page, he slid the pape
