Chương 13
“I am sorry.”
This time I let her say it.
Not because I forgave her.
Because I did not want to carry the extra work of preventing her from speaking.
“I knew he was married,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I believed what I wanted to believe.”
“Yes.”
“I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
There were tears in her eyes now.
I felt nothing comforting rise inside me.
No sisterhood.
No sudden understanding.
Just exhaustion.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Nothing.”
I looked at her.
“Tell the truth when someone asks.”
I left before either of us could make the moment cleaner than it deserved to be.
Dana Price’s office was on the seventh floor of a converted warehouse with exposed brick walls and terrible parking.
She was in her mid-fifties, wore bright red glasses, and did not waste time pretending my situation was simple.
She read the codicil twice.
Then she read Arthur’s letter.
Then she asked me to describe exactly what happened the day Curtis made me leave.
I told her everything.
The suitcases.
The check.
Security.
The savings account.
The divorce petition.
Erica.
When I finished, Dana took off her glasses.
“You have two different legal problems.”
“Only two?”
One corner of her mouth lifted.
“That was almost funny.”
“I’m getting funnier under stress.”
“It’s cheaper than therapy.”
She put the glasses back on.
“First, the divorce.”
I nodded.
“Second, the trust dispute that is almost certainly coming.”
“Samuel said the same.”
“Samuel is trustee.”
“Is that bad?”
“It means he has duties that are not identical to yours.”
She tapped the papers.
“You need someone whose only job is protecting your interests.”
“That’s you?”
“If you retain me.”
“What will it cost?”
She gave me a number.
My stomach dropped.
I must have shown it because she leaned back.
“You can likely petition for certain fees to be paid from trust assets depending on the nature of the dispute, but do not assume that means free.”
“I have two hundred dollars.”
“You have temporary wages and possibly marital claims.”
“I’m renting a room over a garage.”
Dana studied me.
Then she closed the folder.
“We can work out an initial arrangement.”
I hated how relieved I felt.
“I don’t want charity.”
“Good.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Neither do I.”
I looked at her.
“This is credit based on an assessment that you have a serious legal interest worth protecting.”
Something about the bluntness made it easier to accept.
“Okay.”
She slid a yellow legal pad toward herself.
“Now tell me what you want.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Dana waited.
Not kindly.
Not impatiently.
Just waited.
“I want Curtis to stop rewriting what happened.”
“That is understandable.”
“I want the divorce.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want to move back.”
“Very good.”
“I don’t know what I want about the money.”
“That is also fine.”
“I don’t want to become the kind of person who celebrates ruining him.”
Dana nodded once.
“And do you want to protect him from consequences?”
The question landed hard.
I looked toward the window.
Cars moved below us in late-afternoon traffic.
For ten years, protecting Curtis had often looked like love.
Explaining him.
Waiting for him.
Covering for him.
Telling Arthur he was busy instead of absent.
Telling myself he was stressed instead of selfish.
I looked back at Dana.
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
But it was mine.
Her pen touched the paper.
“Then that is where we begin.”
Dana spent the next forty minutes making me separate what I knew from what I assumed.
It was harder than I expected.
I knew Curtis had prepared divorce papers before Arthur died.
I knew he had restricted my access to money.
I knew security had been hired for my removal.
I knew Erica had messages showing he was waiting for the estate to become secure before leaving me.
I did not know whether he had ever seen the codicil.
I did not know whether he had tried to influence Arthur’s estate planning.
I did not know whether Arthur had changed the clause because of something specific Curtis had done.
Each time I drifted into what Curtis probably meant, Dana tapped her pen once against the pad.
“Facts first.”
By the third time, I wanted to throw the pen across the room.
Instead, I nodded.
“Facts first.”
“That is how you keep from getting dragged into his story.”
“What story?”
“That you manipulated Arthur, abandoned the marriage, and are now using the trust to punish him.”
I stared at her.
“He’s really going to say that?”
“He already has.”
The words sat between us.
Dana glanced at the copies Samuel had provided.
“People under financial pressure often become very creative historians.”
“That sounds polite.”
“I bill by the hour.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Curtis.
We need to talk tonight.
A second followed.
No lawyers.
Dana looked at my face.
“Him?”
I nodded.
“What does he want?”
I turned the phone toward her.
She read the messages.
“Do not meet him.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
A third message arrived.
This can all be fixed if you stop letting Samuel control you.
Dana’s mouth tightened.
“Save that.”
I took a screenshot.
Then another message.
Dad was sick and confused.
You know that.
My stomach dropped.
Dana held out her hand.
“May I?”
I passed her the phone.
She read silently.
Then she gave it back.
“He is building a position.”
“He texted me that Arthur was confused.”
“Yes.”
“But this morning he said I manipulated Arthur.”
“Those theories can coexist.”
“They contradict each other.”
“Legal disputes are full of contradictions.”
I stared at the screen.
Curtis was typing again.
The dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then nothing came.
Dana capped her pen.
“Do not respond tonight.”
“Why tonight specifically?”
“Because he is emotional and frightened.”
“So am I.”
“Yes.”
She leaned back.
“And you are sitting in my office.”
May you like
That ended the argument.
I signed the engagement agreement.
