Chapter 7 - The Lobby ConfrontationWhen I stepped out of the elevator into the marble lobby of the legal building, Daniel looked like a ghost of the man I had married.
His tailored tuxedo was replaced by a rumpled, ill-fitting suit he had clearly pulled from the back of his closet. His hair was greasy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was covered in three days of uneven stubble.
When he saw me walk out of the elevator, he took a step forward, his hands reaching out instinctively.
"Serena..." he croaked, his voice hoarse.
Security guards immediately stepped into formation behind me, but I held up a hand, signaling them to stay back.
"You have five minutes, Daniel," I said, keeping my posture straight and my tone icy cold. "Say whatever you came to say."
Daniel looked around the polished marble lobby, tears welling in his red eyes. "Serena, please... you have to lift the freeze on the joint accounts. My criminal lawyer is threatening to drop my case if I don't pay his retainer by five o'clock today!"
I stared at him, marveling at his endless capacity for self-absorption. Even now, facing federal prison time, he wasn't asking for forgiveness—he was asking for money.
"You embezzled four hundred and twenty thousand dollars from a non-profit shelter for abused women, Daniel," I said clearly, ensuring the lobby receptionist and security guards heard every word. "And you spent it on luxury cars and hotel rooms for your mistress. Why on earth would I give you access to marital funds to pay for your legal defense?"
"I was desperate, Serena!" he pleaded, dropping his voice to an urgent whisper as he stepped closer. "The firm was pressing me for capital contributions! Camille threatened to ruin my reputation if I didn't buy her that car! I made terrible choices, but I am still your husband! We swore vows!"
"You broke those vows the moment you let another woman assault me in my dressing room," I countered, my voice cutting through his frantic excuses like a blade. "You looked at me covered in makeup and told me to put on a coat because I was being 'inconvenient.' You treated my dignity like trash."
"I was wrong!" he wept, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I was an idiot! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll plead guilty, I’ll go to rehab, I’ll sign whatever divorce settlement you want—just please don't let me go to prison penniless!"
I pulled a pen from my blazer pocket, pulled a copy of the divorce petition from my folder, and set it on the marble reception counter between us.
"If you want me to authorize a partial release of marital funds to pay your legal defense, Daniel," I said, tapping the document with my pen, "you sign this uncontested divorce agreement right now. You surrender all claims to Harbor House, my personal assets, and our suburban home."
Daniel looked down at the document, his trembling hand picking up the pen. He knew he was signing away his entire financial future, but the terrifying fear of spending twenty years in a federal penitentiary left him with zero leverage.
He pressed the pen to the paper and signed his name on the dotted line.
May you like
I picked up the signed agreement, blew gently on the ink, and handed it to Marcus, who had stepped out of the elevator behind me.
"Thank you, Daniel," I said softly, looking him in the eye for the final time. "Your five minutes are up."
