Chapter 3 - The War of AssetsBy seven o'clock that evening, the rain was pouring heavy and relentless over the city.
I sat in the mahogany-paneled office of Vance & Partners, located on the forty-fifth floor of the Financial District tower. Across from me sat my uncle, Marcus Vance—a legendary trial attorney who had spent thirty years dismantling corporate frauds and high-profile schemers.
Beside my uncle sat my best friend and business partner, Julian Cross. Julian and I had founded our architectural restoration firm, Sterling & Cross, six years ago. Despite the name, Derek had never owned a single share of our company; he had merely been our accountant during our first year before I hired an independent firm to manage our books.
"The medical records from Dr. Hayes arrived an hour ago," Uncle Marcus said, sliding a gold fountain pen between his fingers. "Along with the formal recanalization report from the independent lab. Mathematically and medically, there is zero ambiguity. Derek is the biological father of those twins."
"He called me seven times while I was driving here," I said quietly, holding a warm mug of tea between my hands. "He sent twenty text messages. He says he made a terrible mistake. He says he wants to come home and talk."
Julian let out a harsh, contemptuous laugh from his chair. "Talk? Now that he knows he’s the father and that his public reputation is about to go down the drain, he wants to talk? Four days ago he sent a crew of movers to change the locks on your grandmother’s house!"
"Let’s talk about that house," Uncle Marcus said, opening a thick leather binder on his desk. "Derek’s lawyer filed a claim stating that because Derek paid twelve mortgage payments from his personal checking account, the property qualifies as commingled marital assets."
Marcus pulled out a bank statement and slid it toward me.
"What Derek doesn't know," Marcus continued with a dark smile, "is that I audited your personal trust account three days ago. Every single dollar Derek deposited into that mortgage account came from a joint line of credit that was underwritten by your architectural patents. In short: he was paying the mortgage using money generated by your intellectual property."
"He didn't build that wealth," I said, feeling a surge of quiet empowerment. "I did."
"Exactly," Marcus said. "And it gets better. Julian spent the afternoon looking into Derek’s financial activities over the last six months."
Julian leaned forward, his face dead serious. "Clara, Derek’s logistics firm, Apex Delivery Solutions, isn't doing as well as he boasts on LinkedIn. Three months ago, he signed a heavy personal guarantee on a two-million-dollar commercial loan to expand his fleet. And guess who persuaded him to take out that loan?"
I looked at Julian. "Sienna?"
"Sienna Montgomery’s marketing firm took a sixty-thousand-dollar finder's fee on that loan," Julian revealed, tossing a corporate filing onto the table. "She’s been draining his business accounts under the guise of 'brand development' fees. She knew Derek was trying to lock down your real estate assets so he could use the Maple Street property as collateral for his loan!"
The picture was finally complete.
Sienna hadn't just seduced my husband; she had targeted him. She had seen a vain, insecure corporate climber who was easily manipulated by flattery. She had encouraged his secret vasectomy to isolate him from me, convinced him I was cheating when I got pregnant, and pushed him to seize my property to cover his own spiraling business debts.
"He threw away his marriage, his children, and his honor for a woman who is actively robbing him," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief.
"And now," Uncle Marcus said, leaning back in his leather chair with a sharp, lethal grin, "we are going to serve him."
"What are we filing?" I asked.
"Fault-based divorce on grounds of marital abandonment, severe emotional distress, and financial fraud," Marcus stated clearly. "We are seeking exclusive ownership of the Maple Street residence, full child support, an immediate freeze on all joint lines of credit, and a court order forcing Derek to undergo a full forensic accounting audit of his company."
"And the vasectomy clinic?" Julian asked.
Marcus’s grin turned ice-cold. "The clinic failed to provide him with mandatory written warnings regarding post-procedure testing protocols. I’ve already contacted their legal team. They are so terrified of a malpractice lawsuit that they are willing to provide us with every piece of correspondence Derek sent them—including emails where Derek explicitly stated he was hiding the procedure from his wife."
I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rain-slicked city lights below.
May you like
Two tiny heartbeats were pulsing inside me right now. They were safe. They were mine. And I was no longer the heartbroken woman crying on the floor of a broken kitchen.
"Do it, Uncle Marcus," I said softly. "Serve him."
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