Cora 2:24

She wasn't herself. Or, more specifically, she wasn't how Marc was accustomed to seeing her. She'd been pleasant enough the long way to town, and she hadn't been rude on the ride to the sprawling house. But now that they were at the house and there were lawyers scuttling about the baseboards she wasn't herself. She was more brier than flower, he mused, prickly and painful if not overly terrifying. No one ever died from a few brambles, but they weren't pleasant.

“Where's your kid, Cors? Gone to school?” It was the man he recognized from the news, Harmon Lishene. Marc had imagined he would be taller.

“Where's your blonde? Whoring herself in the coffee shop?” She looked mad enough to spit, and Marc didn't seem to be the only man surprised by that. Lishene himself seemed pretty surprised by her words.

“At least he's more your age,” the millionaire muttered and looked at Marc. “More your style, too. You deserve him.” That hurt more than anyone would let on, and Marc entertained thoughts of shifting into something fierce and shredding the bastard. Marc wasn't a man to shift often, and nearly never into an animal, but thoughts of a lion seemed fitting. At least for a moment more.

When the lawyers had everything in order everyone sat around a large table. Conveniently there was one chair too few. Marc was never one to accept subtle hints, especially when backing someone he cared for, so he noisily hunted for a chair then sat it close behind Cora. He could see from her eyes she appreciated it.

“We'll start with the house,” a lawyer said. Cora slammed her cast against the table and her eyes tightened.

“I don't want anything,” she said. “I don't want the house, or the furniture, or the money. I had plenty on my own, and I don't need his.” The lawyers all looked at each other. One cleared his throat.

“So, about the house...” he started but she slammed her cast again.

“I don't want it.” She said it so softly they nearly thought she hadn't spoken. Her voice was low and dangerous and they shifted in their seats. They fully expected her to change forms and mutilate them; even in a different form no one expected she could cause much harm. But the lawyer changed his tact.

“Mr. Lishene, did Ms. DeVroe Lishene take anything of value when she left? Perhaps something you'd like back?”

“She was wearing her wedding ring when I last saw her,” he said in a wounded voice. It was a show. “It belonged to my grandmother, and I would like it returned.” That part was a lie; she was with him when he bought it. But she wouldn't play his game.

“I was mugged,” she said and looked at the lawyers. “It was stolen, along with my purse, necklace, and everything in my pockets. I have my insurance claim, if you would like to look at it.” That was a lie, too. Nothing had been stolen, and there were no papers. The lawyers looked at Lishene, and he shook his head; she was answering his lie with one of her own. He loved when she played his games.

“I trust you,” he said so sweetly Marc nearly snickered. He was on to the man from the start.

“Is there anything else?” the lawyer asked and Cora tensed. She knew what was coming, and Marc could only imagine it was unpleasant.

“She carried my child away in her womb,” he said dramatically. It was completely believable, and most of the lawyers seemed swayed by it.

“Mrs. DeVroe Lishene, Mr. Lishene will expect full parental rights when...” the lawyer began but quickly stopped. Tears had formed in her eyes and one fell slowly over the freckles on her cheek.

“It's gone,” she said softly, genuinely. “It did not survive the attack.” She had the doctor's report, and Marc was particularly surprised when the lawyer asked for it. He scanned it, not for actual scanning purposes because he didn't want to know anything more about it, but just to look like he was doing his job. It could have said she was pregnant with twins and he wouldn't have noticed. She could have been carrying a litter of kittens, which the lawyer would have thought possible with her infection; he was better off not knowing.

“If there is nothing else, then I suppose we can sign the papers,” the lawyer said after a lengthy silence. It was clear to everyone that Cora simply wanted out, and it was equally clear that the millionaire wanted to keep things messy.

Marc made certain that Cora thoroughly read the terms for any sign of a trap. She was getting a hefty alimony and after questioning it at length, searching for any strings she could imagine, she signed it. Harmon expected her to be married soon, while she knew she would never be married again.

She sat tensely when everything was finished, and Marc recognized the pose. Lishene could have recognized it, if he'd ever paid attention. She was spent, that posture said, and she was keeping herself under rigid control until she was safe. She would properly slump, but not until she was safe. She stood up and said her good riddances when she heard the taxi outside. Marc did not help her around the room, or through the door, or down the walk. He opened the door for her and helped her in, and she sat rigidly. It was late evening and would be dark soon. He took a last look at the house, so he could tell Liese about it later, and stayed quiet until they rounded the block.

“You're safe, love,” he said to the back of the seat in front of him while Cora slumped into his shoulder and cried.