Chapter 9 - The Courtroom Checkmate
The divorce hearing lasted exactly forty-two minutes. It was held in a private, wood-paneled judge’s chambers to avoid the media circus, though the paparazzi were packed ten deep on the courthouse steps.
Alexander sat beside a court-appointed attorney, looking thoroughly broken. Without his wealth, without his tailored suits and his sycophants, he was just a small, bitter man. Madison was notably absent; she was currently sitting in a federal holding cell, having tried to flee the country with a forged passport two days prior.
The judge, a stern woman with zero tolerance for nonsense, reviewed the mountain of evidence Julian had compiled.
“Mr. Ashford,” the judge said, peering over her glasses. “I have presided over high-net-worth divorces for thirty years. I have never seen a more blatant, documented, and insulting abuse of marital assets. You used your wife’s family trust as a personal piggy bank to fund a mistress, commit corporate fraud, and endanger a children’s charity.”
Alexander stared at the mahogany table, unable to speak.
“The prenuptial agreement is ironclad, but frankly, given the criminal liability you’ve exposed the plaintiff to, I am stripping the one-million-dollar payout,” the judge ruled, banging her gavel. “You forfeit all claims to the Ashford estate, the liquid assets, the properties, and the corporate shares. You leave this marriage with exactly what you brought into it twelve years ago. Nothing.”
Vivien sat beside Julian, her spine perfectly straight. She didn’t smile. She didn’t gloat. She simply closed the file folder in front of her. It was over. The tumor had been excised.
As they walked out of the chambers, Alexander called out her name, his voice cracking. “Vivien. Please. I have nowhere to go.”
May you like
Vivien stopped and looked over her shoulder. She remembered the slap in the ballroom, the blood on her lip, and his cold command to go fix her face.
“Then I suggest you start walking,” she said, and turned away, stepping out into the blinding flash of the press cameras, her hand firmly in Julian’s.
