Chapter 7 - The Paper TrailThe conference room at my attorney’s office was a masterpiece of intimidation. High above the Manhattan skyline, the room featured a sprawling glass table, leather chairs, and an aura of absolute, uncompromising power.
My divorce attorney, Diane Vance, was a shark in a Chanel suit. She didn't lose, and she certainly didn't settle.
Daniel sat across the table from us, flanked by a sleazy, discount lawyer who looked like he sweated through his shirt on the subway ride over. Daniel looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, and the arrogant swagger he had carried for decades was completely entirely evaporated.
"My client is entitled to fifty percent of the marital assets, including the equity in the primary residence," Daniel’s lawyer, a man named Higgins, began, shuffling a stack of disorganized papers. "Furthermore, we are requesting temporary spousal support, as my client’s recent... termination... has left him in a state of financial distress."
Diane actually laughed out loud. It was a sharp, terrifying sound.
"Mr. Higgins, I highly suggest you review the forensic audit I sent your office yesterday before you make demands that border on comedic," Diane said, leaning forward and resting her manicured hands on the glass.
Daniel frowned, looking at his lawyer. "What forensic audit?"
Diane didn't look at Higgins. She locked her predatory gaze directly on Daniel. "Did you really think my client was just going to file standard divorce papers and let you walk away with half her net worth, Daniel? We hired a team of forensic accountants to trace every single dime you spent over the last three years."
Diane slid a thick, heavy, red-tabbed binder across the table.
"Let's look at Exhibit A," Diane purred. "You authorized wire transfers totaling over two hundred thousand dollars from a joint marital savings account to a private LLC."
Daniel’s face instantly drained of color. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"And who owns this LLC?" Diane asked rhetorically. "Why, it’s registered to Vanessa Thorne. Your mistress. You used marital funds to purchase a luxury condominium for her in downtown Chicago."
"That... that was an investment property!" Daniel stammered, sweating profusely.
"It was embezzlement," I said, speaking for the first time. My voice was perfectly calm, slicing through his panic like a scalpel. "You stole from your children’s future to buy your mistress a penthouse."
"But wait, it gets better," Diane smiled, turning the page. "Because you used joint marital funds to purchase the property, the condo is legally classified as a marital asset. Which means my client has the right to seize it."
Daniel’s jaw dropped. "You can't do that. Vanessa lives there! Her name is on the deed!"
"Not anymore," Diane corrected smoothly. "We filed an emergency injunction this morning. The property is currently being seized and liquidated. We are having Vanessa evicted as we speak."
Daniel buried his face in his hands, letting out a pathetic, broken whimper. He realized the absolute depth of his destruction. He hadn't just lost his job and his family; he had just dragged his mistress into the exact same gutter he was currently drowning in.
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"My client is not paying you alimony, Daniel," Diane stated, closing the red binder with a definitive snap. "In fact, you are walking away with absolutely nothing. If you contest this agreement, I will hand these forensic reports over to the district attorney and have you indicted for wire fraud. You can sign the papers, or you can go to prison. The choice is yours."
Daniel picked up the pen with trembling hands. The man who had tried to destroy me was now officially bankrupt.
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