Chapter 7 - The Final Blow
The divorce proceedings were mercifully short. Jack couldn't afford a decent lawyer. He showed up to the mediation room looking ten years older. His hair was unkempt. His charcoal-gray sport coat was wrinkled and smelled faintly of stale smoke. He couldn't even look me in the eye. I sat across the polished mahogany table, wearing a sharp, tailored black suit. I looked like Megan Vance again. I felt like her, too.
Jack's public defender—a tired-looking man who clearly hated his client—tried to argue for alimony. "Dr. Walker has become accustomed to a certain lifestyle," the lawyer mumbled. Gerald, sitting beside me, actually laughed out loud. He slid a thick binder across the table. "Dr. Walker committed extensive marital fraud," Gerald stated smoothly. "Furthermore, per the ironclad prenuptial agreement, whatever assets were brought into the marriage remain separate. My client brought everything. Dr. Walker brought fifty thousand dollars in medical school debt." Jack flinched.
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"We are offering a one-time settlement of ten thousand dollars," Gerald continued. "In exchange, Dr. Walker signs away any rights to the clinic's remaining patents, agrees to a permanent non-disclosure agreement regarding Ms. Vance, and waives his right to a trial." Jack stared at the paper. Ten thousand dollars. It was an insult. It wouldn't even cover three months of rent. "Megan, please," Jack whispered, finally looking up at me. His eyes were hollow. The arrogance was entirely gone, replaced by a crushing, desperate misery. "I have nothing. My career is ruined. My family is falling apart. Please. You've punished me enough."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. I looked at the man I had loved. The man I had scrubbed floors for. The man I had sacrificed my own identity to protect. "You're wrong, Jack," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it commanded the entire room. "I didn't punish you. I just stopped protecting you from yourself." I slid a pen across the table. "Sign it. Or we go to trial, and I make sure you leave this room owing me money." He picked up the pen. His hand shook so badly he could barely write his name. But he signed it. When the ink dried, the marriage was officially dead.
