Chapter 3 - The Armor of Evidence
The next morning, I walked into Diane Sterling's office feeling like a soldier preparing for battle.
Diane was reputed to be the most ruthless divorce attorney in Denver.
She didn't do amicable separations.
She did scorched earth.
"Good morning, Elena," Diane said, gesturing to the leather chair across from her massive mahogany desk. "I see the funds have been successfully secured."
"Every cent," I confirmed, handing her a thick manila folder.
She opened it, her sharp eyes scanning the documents I had meticulously compiled.
"Bank statements, the Palm Springs lease, the emails to his mistress, the fake Swiss employment contract he drafted," I listed them off smoothly. "I also included the medical records regarding her pregnancy."
Diane raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed.
"You've been incredibly thorough," she noted, tapping a manicured fingernail against the fake Zurich contract. "This document right here is the golden ticket. It proves premeditated financial fraud and intent to abandon the marriage under false pretenses."
"He thought he was being clever," I said, my voice hardening. "He thought because my inheritance was mixed into a joint account for a few months, he had legal claim to half of it."
"He was severely mistaken," Diane replied, a predatory smile forming on her lips. "In Colorado, an inheritance remains separate property unless it is explicitly gifted to the marriage. Moving it into a joint account temporarily to facilitate a home purchase—which your records show was the intent—does not dissolve your sole ownership. Especially not when he intended to use it to fund a secret life."
"So, the money is safe?" I asked, needing absolute confirmation.
"The money is untouchable," Diane assured me. "If he tries to fight for it, we will present this fake contract to a judge. It proves he manipulated you to gain access to those funds."
She pulled out a fresh stack of legal papers.
"I have drafted the divorce petition. We are filing for irreconcilable differences, but we are attaching a brutal financial injunction."
She handed me a heavy, gold-plated pen.
"Sign here, here, and here," she instructed.
I signed my name with firm, confident strokes.
With every signature, a heavy chain fell away from my chest.
"When will he be served?" I asked.
"I have a process server in Palm Springs standing by," Diane said, checking her watch. "They have the address of the condominium. They will serve him the moment he steps outside."
I imagined Lucas and Melanie, waking up in their sunny new apartment.
Lucas was probably frantically checking his banking apps, trying to understand why his accounts were locked.
Melanie was probably asking him why they couldn't go furniture shopping yet.
The perfect life they had planned was about to shatter before it even began.
"There's one more thing," I said, leaning forward. "His job here in Denver. The real one."
Diane looked up. "What about it?"
"He told his firm he needed an extended sabbatical for a family emergency," I revealed, sliding one final paper across the desk. "He didn't quit. He lied to them, too, so he'd have a safety net if things went wrong."
Diane's eyes widened slightly before she let out a low, appreciative chuckle.
"Elena, you are terrifyingly good at this."
"I learned from the best liar I ever met," I replied coldly. "Can we subpoena his HR department? Let them know the real reason he requested the leave?"
"We absolutely can," Diane said, adding the paper to her file. "By the time we are done, Lucas Walker won't have a wife, a mistress, a bank account, or a career."
May you like
I stood up, shaking her hand.
For the first time in years, I felt entirely in control of my own destiny.
