The office was tucked inside a nondescript building on the quieter side of the city.
No gleaming glass tower.
No security desk or brand logo.
Just an old brick facade, a single brass plaque by the door, and a receptionist who didn't ask for Malik's name when he entered.
This was where people came when they wanted things done without noise.
Exactly what he needed.
Victoria Lane sat behind a mahogany desk, framed by floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound volumes. She looked about fifty, sharp gray eyes behind slim black glasses, her posture as rigid and elegant as a blade.
She didn't offer him a coffee.
She didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"Mr. Graves," she said, motioning to the chair across from her. "How can I help you?"
Malik sat down slowly, smoothing his jacket with deliberate precision.
"I need two things," he said.
"Name them."
"One."
He slid a folder across the desk—copies of contracts, property deeds, silent partnership agreements.
"I need to isolate my holdings. Protect my upcoming projects from joint marital claims."
Victoria flipped through the papers without blinking.
"And two?"
Malik's voice didn't waver.
"I need a divorce agreement drafted. Quietly.
Prepared to file the moment I say so."
Victoria looked up at him over the rim of her glasses.
"Is the other party aware?"
"No."
She tapped a manicured finger once against the edge of the desk.
"Children involved?"
"No."
"Joint business ventures?"
"None she controls."
Victoria smiled faintly. It wasn't a warm smile.
"This will be clean," she said. "If you're ready to be ruthless."
Malik held her gaze.
He thought about Serena's hands curled around champagne glasses, photo ops, gala invitations, whispered lies.
He thought about the gallery she clung to like a crown she hadn't earned.
And he thought about how easy it had been, standing beside her, smiling for the cameras, while she never once realized the cliff she was dancing on.
He smiled back at Victoria.
"I'm ready."
Two hours later, Malik left the building with no documents in hand, no obvious trace of what he had set in motion.
The papers would be locked in Victoria's private safe until he gave the word.
When the time came, he would simply nod.
And Serena Calvert-Graves would lose everything she thought she had control over.
No warning.
No second chances.
Just the sharp, clean severance of a man who no longer needed her to define him.