When Love Turned into Betrayal

Chapter 8: The Lawyer Who Never Loses

Marcus Hale's office was on the forty-second floor of a building that screamed money and power.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. Marble floors. Art that probably cost more than my car. The receptionist looked like she'd stepped out of Vogue, all sleek hair and designer suit.

"Ms. Carter?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Professional distance. "Mr. Hale is ready for you. Conference room two."

Harper squeezed my hand as we followed her down a hallway lined with framed articles. I caught glimpses of headlines as we passed.

Marcus Hale Secures $45 Million Settlement

Celebrity Divorce Attorney Destroys Cheating Hedge Fund Manager

The Lawyer Cheaters Fear Most

"Comforting," I muttered.

"That's the point," Harper whispered back.

The receptionist opened a door, gestured us inside. The conference room was all glass and steel, dominated by a massive table. And sitting at the head of that table, reviewing documents, was Marcus Hale.

He looked exactly like his reputation suggested. Mid-forties, perfectly tailored suit, steel-gray hair, and eyes that missed nothing. He stood when we entered, and I was struck by how tall he was. Imposing.

"Ms. Carter." His handshake was firm, businesslike. "Ms. Lane. Please, sit."

We settled into chairs across from him. He didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"I've reviewed the preliminary information your friend sent over." He tapped the file in front of him. "Two years of documented infidelity, financial misconduct, and premeditated asset manipulation. This is good. Very good."

"Good?" I echoed.

"For our case, yes." His expression didn't change. "Bad for you personally, obviously. But from a legal standpoint, your husband has handed us everything we need to destroy him."

The word destroy should have made me uncomfortable. Instead, I felt something like relief.

"How bad is it?" I asked. "Legally, I mean. For him."

Marcus leaned back, steepled his fingers. "New York is a no-fault divorce state, which means infidelity technically doesn't impact asset division. However." He paused, letting that word hang. "When we can prove financial misconduct, planned deception, and the deliberate hiding of assets, that changes things considerably."

"What does that mean for me?"

"It means we can argue that he violated his fiduciary duty to you as his spouse. That he used marital funds for his affair. That he attempted to defraud you in anticipation of divorce." Marcus pulled out several documents, spread them across the table. "These emails you provided show clear intent to hide assets. That's a gift, Ms. Carter. Most cheaters aren't stupid enough to document their plans."

"Ethan always did like to have everything in writing," Harper said dryly.

"His mistake." Marcus made a note. "Now, let's talk about what you want out of this."

I blinked. "What I want?"

"Yes. Revenge is satisfying, but it's not a legal strategy." His gaze was direct, assessing. "Do you want the apartment? His business shares? Alimony? All of the above? I need to know what we're fighting for."

The question caught me off guard. I'd been so focused on the betrayal, on the hurt, that I hadn't thought about the practical side.

"I want what's fair," I said finally.

"Fair." Marcus's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Ms. Carter, fair went out the window when your husband spent forty-seven thousand dollars of marital funds on his mistress. Let me rephrase. What do you want? Really want?"

I thought about it. About Ethan in that apartment with Layla, planning their future in my home. About her saying she'd always loved that place. About two years of lies.

"Everything," I said quietly. "I want everything he tried to take from me."

Now Marcus did smile. Sharp and predatory. "That, I can work with."

He pulled out a legal pad, started writing. "The apartment is in both your names, yes?"

"Yes. We bought it together three years ago."

"And you contributed to the down payment?"

"Half of it. Two hundred thousand from my inheritance."

Marcus made a note. "Good. That's your separate property. We'll argue for full ownership of the apartment or force a sale and take your equity plus half of any appreciation. His choice."

"He won't want to sell," I said. "He loves that place."

"Then he can buy you out. At current market value, which I'm guessing is significantly higher than what you paid." Marcus looked up. "You said he has business interests?"

"He's part owner of a tech startup. Carter Digital Solutions. He and two partners founded it four years ago."

"Before or after your marriage?"

"After. About six months after."

"Then his ownership stake is marital property." More notes. "We'll need a valuation, but depending on the company's worth, that could be substantial."

Harper leaned forward. "What about the money he spent on Layla? Can we get that back?"

"We can certainly argue for it in the asset division." Marcus flipped through the bank statements. "Hotels, jewelry, gifts. All purchased with marital funds while he was actively planning to divorce you. A judge will factor that in when determining equitable distribution."

"How long will this take?" I asked.

"Depends on how cooperative your husband is. If he agrees to our terms, we could have a settlement in three to six months. If he fights..." Marcus shrugged. "Could be a year or more. But based on what you've shown me, he'd be a fool to take this to trial."

"He might anyway," I said. "Out of spite."

"Let him." Marcus's voice was cold. "Every day this drags on, every legal motion, every deposition, it all becomes public record. The media will eat it alive. His business reputation will suffer. His partners will question his judgment. Fighting me would be the worst decision he could make."

The certainty in his voice should have been comforting. Instead, it made everything feel more real. This was happening. My marriage was ending. And it was going to get ugly.

"What do I need to do?" I asked.

"First, you need to separate your finances immediately." Marcus pulled out a checklist. "Close joint accounts. Open new ones in your name only. Cancel any credit cards he has access to. Document everything you own separately versus jointly."

"I can help with that," Harper said.

"Good. Second, you need to gather every piece of financial documentation you can find. Tax returns, investment statements, retirement accounts. Everything. If he has assets you don't know about, we need to find them."

I nodded, trying to keep up.

"Third, and this is important." Marcus looked directly at me. "You do not communicate with him except through me. No phone calls, no texts, no in-person meetings. Nothing. Every interaction needs to be documented and controlled."

"What if he shows up at her place?" Harper asked.

"Then she calls the police and me, in that order." Marcus handed me his card. "My cell number is on there. Twenty-four seven. If he threatens you, harasses you, or attempts to intimidate you in any way, I need to know immediately."

The thought of Ethan threatening me seemed absurd. But then again, two days ago the thought of him cheating seemed absurd too.

"Will he get a lawyer like you?" I asked.

"Probably. He'd be stupid not to." Marcus closed his file. "But here's what most people don't understand about high-conflict divorces. It's not about who has the better lawyer. It's about who has the better case. And Ms. Carter, you have an excellent case."

"Because he documented everything," I said.

"That's part of it. But also because you're credible. You're sympathetic. Hardworking professional betrayed by her husband and stepsister." He said it clinically, like he was describing a legal strategy rather than my life. "A judge will be on your side before we even present evidence."

"What about Layla?" Harper asked. "Can we go after her too?"

"Not legally, no. She's not a party to the marriage." Marcus hesitated. "However, if you wanted to pursue a civil suit for alienation of affection, that's technically possible in New York, though it's rarely successful."

"I don't want to sue her," I said. The words surprised me. "I just want her out of my life."

"Fair enough." Marcus stood, signaling the meeting was ending. "I'll draft a formal separation agreement and file a petition for divorce by end of week. Expect your husband to be served by Friday."

Friday. Three days away. Three days until Ethan would receive legal papers, would know this was really happening.

"One more thing." Marcus walked us to the door. "The media attention. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Especially after he's served. You need to prepare for that."

"How?" I asked.

"Don't engage. Don't comment. Don't defend yourself on social media or in interviews." His expression softened slightly. "I know it's tempting. I know you'll want to tell your side. But anything you say can and will be used against you in court. Let your lawyer do the talking."

We shook hands again. His grip was reassuring. Solid.

"You're going to be fine, Ms. Carter," he said. "I've handled worse cases than this. And I've never lost."

Harper and I didn't speak until we were back in the elevator, doors closing behind us.

"He's intense," I said finally.

"He's perfect." Harper was grinning. "Did you see his face when you said you wanted everything? He looked like Christmas came early."

"Is that a good thing?"

"For you? Absolutely." She pulled out her phone. "Okay, we need to start separating finances today. I'll call the bank, get you set up with new accounts. You need to make a list of everything in the apartment that's yours. Photos, receipts, anything that proves ownership."

My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.

I know what you're planning. Don't do this. We can work it out. Please.

I showed it to Harper. She rolled her eyes.

"Block him. Now."

"What if it's important?"

"Violet." She grabbed my phone, blocked the number herself. "Marcus said no contact. That means no contact. Ethan's trying to manipulate you. Don't let him."