The valuation revealed a problem neither Daniel nor I expected. The shop was worth more without the loan, but its cash reserves were dangerously low because Daniel had already paid a deposit on the showroom lease. He had used the newly available credit line the day after I scheduled my transfer. Celeste's design company was named on the lease; mine was not.

Evan sent a preservation notice, and the bank froze additional draws until ownership questions were resolved. Daniel accused me of humiliating him in front of his lender. I answered that accurate paperwork was not humiliation. Nine employees needed their paychecks protected from a private expansion they had never approved.

I visited the shop after closing and spoke with the foreman, Luis. I did not discuss our marriage. I explained that we were arranging financing and that payroll would continue. Luis showed me a wall of finished maple panels waiting for a delayed customer. He also showed me three smaller local orders Daniel had ignored while chasing the showroom. I had spent years hearing that only a dramatic expansion could save the business. Standing among those carefully made cabinets, I saw another option: finish the work already promised.

At mediation, I proposed that the showroom lease be canceled if possible, the credit line remain closed, and the shop repay me over five years from verified profits. My claim would be secured by Daniel's company shares, not by employee equipment. We would sell the house and divide the remaining equity after crediting part of my contribution. Daniel could keep the shop if he accepted independent bookkeeping. He asked why I was offering terms that allowed him to keep anything. I told him I was protecting what I had actually tried to save: honest work, people's jobs, and my own future. Revenge would not restore the orchard. A binding agreement might restore the value I had surrendered. He requested a private break, but I refused. I had spent enough time outside rooms where my money was being discussed.