Chapter 7 - The Legal Showdown
Two weeks later, we met in the high-rise conference room of Sterling & Cross, my divorce attorneys.
Daniel arrived accompanied by a cut-rate divorce lawyer named Gary Peterson, whom he had hired after discovering that none of the top-tier firms in the city would touch his case without a massive retainer he couldn't afford. Daniel looked terrible. He had lost ten pounds, his tailored suit hung loosely on his shoulders, and the arrogance that once defined him was completely gone.
Gary Peterson cleared his throat, spreading a series of financial claims across the mahogany table.
“Mrs. Holloway,” Peterson began aggressively, “regardless of the emotional circumstances, California is a community property state. During the three years of marriage, my client Daniel Miller contributed his labor, his reputation, and his spousal support. We are asserting a fifty-percent claim on the appreciation of the marital residence, fifty percent of all liquid accounts accumulated during the union, and $12,000 a month in rehabilitative spousal support given Daniel’s recent involuntary unemployment.”
My attorney, Sarah Sterling, didn't even look up from her legal pad. She merely smiled—a cold, razor-sharp smile that made Peterson’s voice trail off.
“Mr. Peterson,” Sarah said smoothly, “did you bother to read Exhibit C attached to our initial filing?”
Peterson blinked. “Exhibit C? That’s just standard disclosure.”
“No,” Sarah said, sliding a document across the table. “Exhibit C is the prenuptial agreement executed by Daniel Miller on October 14, 2020, signed in the presence of two independent witnesses and accompanied by a certificate of independent legal counsel.”
Daniel gasped. “The prenup? You said that was just an estate planning formality!”
“Paragraph 14, Clause B,” Sarah read aloud, ignoring Daniel completely. *“In the event of marital dissolution resulting from documented financial fraud, grand larceny, or criminal malfeasance committed by either spouse against the other or against entities owned by the other, the offending spouse unconditionally waives all rights to spousal support, property division, marital appreciation, and equitable distribution.”*
Peterson scrambled through the papers, his face turning pale as he scanned the clause. “This... this is exceptionally restrictive.”
“It’s ironclad,” Sarah countered. “And we have already submitted the forensic audit confirming that Mr. Miller diverted $180,000 from Vanguard accounts into personal shell companies. That constitutes criminal fraud under Paragraph 14.”
Sarah leaned forward, her voice hardening.
“Here is our settlement offer, Mr. Peterson. Mr. Miller signs the quitclaim deed relinquishing any theoretical interest in the Holloway estate. He signs a voluntary confession of civil judgment for $180,000, payable over ten years at six percent interest. In exchange, Holloway-Vanguard Holdings will agree not to refer the embezzlement findings to the United States Attorney’s Office for federal wire fraud charges, which carry a mandatory minimum sentence of forty-one months.”
Daniel dropped his pen. His face was gray. “Forty-one months?”
“In federal prison, Daniel,” I spoke up, breaking my silence.
He looked across the table at me, his eyes pleading for a shred of the woman who used to cook for him, who used to soothe his anxieties after a bad day.
“Claire... you loved me once. You know I made a terrible mistake. If you do this, I will never recover. I’ll be bankrupt. I’ll be ruined.”
“You ruined yourself the moment you decided that my worth was defined by how much abuse I could take from your mother,” I said. “You had a loving wife, a beautiful home, and a brilliant future. You threw it all in the garbage, Daniel. Just like the short ribs.”
Daniel looked at his attorney. Peterson slowly shook his head, offering no lifeline.
May you like
With trembling fingers, Daniel picked up the pen and signed every single page.
***