Irritation, second.
Because she isn’t letting me hide behind legal elegance.
She’s making me state my intent like a man, not like a corporation.
Clause 6.3 — Public appearances.
List expectations: number/month, types, lead time, exceptions. I can’t agree to “reasonable.” That’s subjective.
How did I ever think she would just sign, and we would be aligned in this arrangement?
Lucy Bennett doesn’t sign subjectivity.
She lives in variables. She builds contingency plans like breathing. “Reasonable” is a trap. A loophole. A weapon.
Clause 8.2 — Compensation.
Remove. All of it. I’m not doing this for bonuses.
My eyes catch on that line and stick there.
The compensation section was not small. It was designed the way my father taught me to design contracts: incentives layered into compliance. A structure that keeps the other party invested.
Annual bonuses after year three.
A payout per child.
Additional consideration for public-facing obligations.
I wrote it as if I were structuring a CEO package.
And Lucy Bennett, who needs money more than anyone I know, wants it stripped.
I sit back slowly, staring at the document.
No.
Not staring.
Assessing.
Why?
Pride is one answer.
But Lucy isn’t proud for the sake of it. She isn’t ego. She’s survival.
So if she’s refusing the money, it’s because she’s protecting something else.
Her dignity.
Her ability to look at herself in the mirror afterward and say: I didn’t sell the parts of me I couldn’t get back.
I open a blank document and start rewriting.
Not because she asked... Because she’s right.
Wednesday, Claire finds me in the hallway between meetings.
