Chapter 59 Divorce proceedings
Vivienne's POV
Sarah's cousin Monica agreed to meet us at a coffee shop near the lawyer's office an hour before my appointment. Sarah insisted on coming with me, and I was too exhausted to argue. Too grateful, honestly.
We took another cab across town. I watched the city pass by through the window, all those buildings and streets I thought I knew so well. But everything looks different now. Harsher. Colder. Like I was seeing it all for the first time.
Monica was already waiting when we arrived. She was younger than I expected, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun. She wore a simple black suit that looked professional but not expensive.
The kind of outfit someone wears when they're building a career from scratch, not someone who had it handed to them.
She stood up when she saw us and shook my hand firmly.
"Vivienne," she said. "I'm so sorry about what you're going through."
"Thank you," I said quietly.
We sat down at a corner table away from the other customers. Monica pulled out a legal pad and a pen, all business despite her youth.
"Sarah gave me the basic details on the phone," she said. "But I need to hear everything directly from you. Don't leave anything out, even if it seems small or unimportant. Sometimes the smallest details matter most in situations like this."
So I told the story again. Third time now. It was getting easier to say the words without breaking down. Maybe I was running out of tears. Maybe the anger was taking up more space than the sadness now.
Monica took notes while I talked, her pen moving quickly across the paper. She asked questions occasionally. Specific questions about dates and timelines and exact wording of things Rapheal had said.
When I finished, she sat back and looked at her notes for a long moment.
"Okay," she said finally. "First thing you need to understand is that this was definitely planned. Your husband coordinated with his company's HR department to have you terminated the exact same morning the divorce proceedings started. That's not a coincidence. That's strategy."
"Why would he do it that way?" I asked, even though part of me already knew the answer.
"Control," Monica said simply. "He's trying to put you in the weakest possible position before negotiations even begin. No job means no income. No income means you're desperate and more likely to sign whatever he puts in front of you just to get some financial security back."
Sarah made an angry noise beside me. "That's disgusting."
"It's also fairly common in high-net-worth divorces," Monica said, her voice matter-of-fact. "The spouse with more money and power tries to create as much pressure as possible on the other spouse to accept unfavorable terms."
"So what do I do?" I asked.
Monica looked at me directly. "You don't sign anything today. Nothing. I don't care what David Anderson says, I don't care what threats he makes, I don't care if he tells you this is your only chance at a fair settlement. You sign nothing without me reviewing it first."
"He said the meeting was mandatory," I said.
"It's not," Monica said firmly. "You're not obligated to sign divorce papers immediately just because your husband wants you to. This is still a legal process and you have rights. You're entitled to legal representation and you're entitled to time to review any documents before signing them."
She pulled out a business card and slid it across the table to me.
"When you go into that meeting, you give Anderson this card. You tell him you've retained counsel and all further communications need to go through me.
You listen to what he has to say, you take copies of any documents he gives you, and then you leave. That's it."
I picked up the card and stared at it. Monica Rodriguez, Attorney at Law. A phone number. An email address. Such a small thing. Just a piece of paper. But somehow it made me feel less alone. Less powerless.
"What about the settlement he mentioned?" I asked. "Raphael told me there would be a generous settlement after three years."
Monica's expression changed slightly. Became more serious.
"Was that in writing? In your prenuptial agreement?"
I froze.
"We didn't have a prenup," I said slowly.
Monica's eyebrows went up.
"You didn't have a prenuptial agreement? You married a multi-millionaire CEO and didn't sign a prenup?"
"It was supposed to be a business arrangement," I explained, feeling stupid now for not thinking about this before. "A contract marriage. He said we would divorce after three years and I would get a settlement. But we never actually wrote any of that down. It was just verbal."
Sarah and Monica exchanged a look.
"That changes things," Monica said, and there was something in her voice now. Something that almost sounded like hope.
"Without a prenup, this isn't a contract situation. This is a standard marital dissolution in a community property state. Which means you're entitled to a significant portion of the marital assets."
My heart started beating faster. "What does that mean exactly?
"It means," Monica said, leaning forward, "that everything acquired during your marriage is considered joint property. His salary increases. Company stock options.
Property purchases. Investment gains. All of it is legally half yours."