Jake cleared his throat. “No… I don’t believe he told me that. But he did warn me you might make baseless accusations because you want to ruin him.”
I almost smiled.
“Oh, Jake,” I said softly. “Your client played you.”
Jake’s shoulders slumped a fraction.
“Although,” I added, “he did tell me he thinks you’re one of the best lawyers out there.”
Jake exhaled, as if that compliment didn’t comfort him nearly as much as it should have. “That’s… a big compliment. But I’ll never measure up to you, ma’am. I wish he had told me his wife also practices law. He only said you work at a law firm.”
“My husband never took my accomplishments seriously,” I said, matter-of-fact. “He made a habit of undermining my work and my influence. It was foolish of me to stay with him this long.”
I paused, then delivered the word that changed everything.
“However, it was smart of me to sign the prenup.”
Jake blinked. “Prenup?”
The term hit him like a surprise subpoena.
He looked genuinely shocked, as if he’d just realized he’d walked into an ambush with no armor.
“There’s a prenup in this marriage?” he asked quickly. “Your husband didn’t mention that. Do you have proof?”
“Oh, I have plenty,” I said. “I brought the papers.”
Jake sat up straighter, suddenly fully alert. “I’d like to see them, ma’am. And… if you have proof of the affair—”
“I brought that too,” I said, evenly. “And for the record, it isn’t me who wants to drag this out. The sooner it’s finalized, the better it is for me.”
I reached into my handbag and placed a folder on the table.
Inside were copies of the prenup, neatly organized, along with evidence: messages, screenshots, photos, details that didn’t leave room for spin. I didn’t throw it at him dramatically. I simply slid it forward like I was handing him the truth he should have been given from the beginning.
Jake took his time reading, scanning each page with the careful intensity of a man realizing his entire strategy was collapsing in real time.
When he reached the clause about infidelity and the division of the business, his face went pale.
He looked up at me, and I could see it in his eyes: frustration, embarrassment, and the sinking understanding that his client had set him up to fail.
After a long moment, he placed the folder down.
“I see,” he said quietly. “You have solid proof of everything, ma’am. I had no idea.”
“I figured,” I replied. “And I know how difficult it is to work with unreliable clients. Especially when the other side has a strong case and a strong lawyer.”
Jake gave a small, strained laugh. “You’re right about that.”
He hesitated, then said, “I believe that’s all I needed to discuss today. I need to have a serious conversation with my client before I decide how to proceed. Someone will contact you soon, although… I can’t say it will be me.”
I understood the hint. Lawyers have their own language, and he was speaking it clearly.
I didn’t gloat. I didn’t smile too wide.
I thanked him for his time and walked out into the street, past the courthouse where my heels clicked against the sidewalk like punctuation.
On the way back to my office, the sadness I’d been drowning in started to burn away.
In its place was something cleaner.
Determination.
I went straight to work and began preparing my own documents, organizing my position, setting my boundaries. I wasn’t going to let Xander control the pace of this. I wasn’t going to let him manipulate the narrative or punish me for daring to stand up.
He had created this mess.
Now he was going to live inside it.
It took Xander one day to call me.
He called my personal number, despite his dramatic demand that we only communicate through lawyers. That irony didn’t surprise me. Men like Xander love rules—until the rules stop benefiting them.
I answered calmly.
He sounded furious.
“What the hell did you say to my lawyer, Sophia?” he snapped.
I kept my tone light. “Look who’s calling after telling me to stay away. What happened with your lawyer, Xander?”
“Stop playing around,” he barked. “Tell me what you told him that made him quit.”
“Your lawyer quit?” I said, as if I was mildly interested. “That’s unfortunate. I suppose you should have been honest about your situation—and about who you were really up against.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shouted. “You’re nobody. I won’t let you take away my family business.”
“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” I replied.
“I’ll hire someone better!” he insisted. “Just wait and watch. I will destroy you in court. You’ll come begging for mercy.”
I almost laughed.
“Well, that sounds like a plan,” I said. “Good luck with that. But a word of advice, from a lawyer: make sure you tell your new attorney about your affair and the prenup.”
There was a beat of silence on the line—tight, dangerous.
Then he hung up.
I knew what was coming next.
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