Chapter 7
Thursday night was long,
the hours stretching out slowly as I lay awake in bed,
staring at the ceiling patterns.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand at exactly eleven o'clock,
the bright screen illuminating the dark room with an aggressive glow.
It was a text message from Scott,
one final attempt to intimidate me before the morning court session.
"Don't cause any drama tomorrow,
Avery,"
the message read,
his words sharp and filled with a desperate need for control.
"My lawyer says if you try to fight the asset division,
we will stretch this out for years,"
he threatened,
"and you will end up bankrupt from legal fees."
"Just sign the waiver papers like a sensible person,"
he advised,
"and I might consider giving you a small cash settlement out of pity later."
"But if you make a scene in front of the judge,"
he warned,
"I will ensure you get absolutely nothing and your reputation is ruined."
I read the words carefully,
feeling absolutely no fear,
only a profound sense of amusement at his desperate bravado.
He was trying to scare me because he wanted a clean,
fast resolution before the estate distribution deadline next week.
He was terrified that any delay would hold up his seven point three million dollars,
not knowing that the delay was the least of his worries.
I didn't reply to the text,
instead turning my phone face down on the table,
and I closed my eyes with a peaceful smile.
The next morning,
I woke up early,
the alarm ringing at six AM sharp to start the most important day of my life.
I showered,
did my makeup with absolute precision,
and put on the sharp charcoal suit I had prepared.
When I looked at myself in the full-length mirror,
I didn't see the tired,
stressed wife who had endured years of emotional neglect.
I saw a fierce,
independent woman who was about to take control of her own destiny,
and it felt incredible.
I drove to the downtown courthouse,
the massive stone building looming ahead like a temple of absolute justice.
The morning air was crisp and chilly,
causing my breath to fog slightly as I walked up the grand concrete steps.
Jerome was already waiting for me in the main lobby,
holding his leather briefcase tightly,
his expression serious but confident.
"Are you ready for this,
Avery?"
he asked quietly,
scanning my face to ensure I wasn't losing my nerve at the final moment.
"I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life,
Jerome,"
I replied,
my voice steady and firm.
"Good,"
he nodded,
a small smile appearing on his lips,
"I just saw Scott and his lawyer walk into the courtroom down the hall."
"They look like they've already won the lottery,"
he remarked with a chuckle,
"Scott is wearing a brand-new tailored tuxedo suit and flashing his watch."
"And Kayla?"
I inquired,
wondering if she had the audacity to show up to a divorce proceeding.
"She's right there with him,"
Jerome confirmed,
shaking his head in disbelief at their sheer lack of class,
"sitting in the front row of the gallery like a proud queen."
"Let them enjoy their final moments of happiness,"
I whispered,
adjusting the collar of my jacket,
"because once we step inside that room,
their fantasy world is going to end permanently."
We walked down the long,
tiled hallway together,
May you like
the sound of our footsteps echoing off the high ceilings,
and we opened the heavy wooden doors to Courtroom 302.
