Chapter 65 Get a good Lawyer!
Vivienne's POV
"Good," Monica said. "Because we're going to get it. I'm filing a motion first thing tomorrow morning for immediate asset disclosure and temporary spousal support.
We're also going to request a forensic accountant to examine all marital assets."
"How much will all this cost?" I asked, suddenly worried. I had some money saved from the salary he placed me on, but probably not enough to fund a lengthy legal battle against someone with Raphael’s resources.
"I work on contingency for cases like this," Monica said. "I take a percentage of the final settlement. You don't pay me unless you win. And based on what I'm seeing, Vivienne, you're going to win."
After we hung up, I sat there on the couch for a long time, staring at nothing.
My phone buzzed. A text from a number I didn't recognize.
"Vivienne, this is Rebecca from accounting. I heard what happened. I'm so sorry. If you need anything, let me know. Also, I saved some files to a personal drive before they cleared your office. Thought you might want them for your records. Let me know where to send them."
I stared at the message, feeling something warm spread through my chest.
Rebecca. We had never been close friends. At first I thought she was mad at me for coming from nowhere to snatch Rapheal.
I typed back quickly. "Thank you so much. Can you send them to this email?" I gave her my personal email address, not the company one they had probably already deactivated.
Her response was immediate. "Sent. Take care of yourself. He's an idiot for letting you go."
More people knew than I realized. The office gossip had spread fast. Everyone knew about the divorce. Everyone knew I had been fired.
Some of them probably pitied me. Some probably thought I got what I deserved for marrying the boss. Some probably didn't care at all.
But at least one person had my back.
I opened my personal email on my phone and saw Rebecca's message. An attachment. I downloaded it.
It was a folder containing dozens of files. Presentations I had created. Reports I had written. Meeting notes with my name on them. Email threads showing my involvement in major company decisions.
Everything proved I hadn't just been Rapheal Moreau's decorative wife. I had been a real contributor to the company's success.
I forwarded everything to Monica immediately.
Then I opened a new message and started typing.
"Rebecca, I can't thank you enough for this. You probably saved my case. If there's ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."
Her response came a minute later.
"Just promise me you'll fight him. Half the office is rooting for you. The other half is too scared of getting fired to say it out loud. Make him pay for what he did."
I smiled despite everything.
"I promise."
The evening dragged on. I tried to watch TV but couldn't focus. I tried to read a book but the words blurred together. Ordered Chinese food even though I wasn't hungry, then picked at it without really tasting anything.
Around nine o'clock, there was a knock at the door.
I froze. Sarah had her own key. She wouldn't knock.
Another knock. Harder this time.
I walked to the door slowly and looked through the peephole.
Rapheal.
He was standing in the hallway wearing the same suit from this morning, his tie loosened, his hair slightly messy like he had been running his hands through it. He looked tired. Stressed.
Good.
He knocked again. "Vivienne, I know you're in there. Please. We need to talk."
I stood there silently, my hand on the doorknob, my heart pounding.
"Viv, please. Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
Five minutes. Like five minutes would somehow fix three years of lies. Three years of calculation. Three years of him planning exactly how he would discard me.
"I made a mistake," he said through the door. "The way I handled this was wrong. I shouldn't have fired you. I shouldn't have been so cold. Can we please just talk like adults?"
Like adults. Like I was the one being childish by not wanting to see him after he destroyed my entire life in one night.
I pulled out my phone and texted Monica.
"Rapheal is at my friend's apartment. What should I do?"
Her response was immediate. "Do NOT open the door. Do NOT speak to him. Record if he says anything. I'll handle it."
I set my phone to record video and held it up to the peephole, capturing him standing there in the hallway.
"Vivienne, come on. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
I stayed silent.
He stood there for another minute. Then he pulled out his phone and started typing.
My phone buzzed with a text. From his number. The one I had blocked.
But the message came through anyway because he was using iMessage and we were both on the same Apple ID family account. Another thing I hadn't thought about. Another way he could still reach me.
"I'm sorry. I'm handling this all wrong. I never wanted to hurt you. Can we please just talk? I'm standing outside your door feeling like an idiot. Please let me in."
I didn't respond.
Another message. "The settlement offer is negotiable. We can work something out that's fair to both of us. You don't need lawyers getting involved. This can be amicable."
Amicable. That word again.
There was nothing amicable about any of this.
"I know about the prenup," I typed. "The one you drafted and then claimed I refused to sign even though you never showed it to me. I know everything, Raphael. Get a better lawyer. You're going to need one."
I watched through the peephole as he read the message. Saw his expression change from pleading to shocked to something else. Something harder.
He looked up at the door. Right at the peephole. Like he knew I was watching.
"You went through my things," he said, his voice different now. Colder.
I didn't answer.
"That's breaking and entering, Vivienne. That apartment is my property."
My phone buzzed. Another text from him. "I could call the police. Report you for theft."
I almost laughed. He was threatening me now. Showing his real colors.
I texted back. "I'm still your legal wife. That apartment is still my legal residence. I took only my personal belongings and I have witnesses. But please, call the police. I'm sure they'll be very interested in your fraudulent prenup documents."
Silence from the hallway.
Then: "This doesn't have to be a war."
"You started the war when you lied to me for three years. I'm just defending myself."
More silence.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice barely audible. "I did care about you, you know. It wasn't all fake."
Something twisted in my chest. Because part of me wanted to believe that. Part of me still loved the man I thought he was.
But I remembered the note in his handwriting. The one dated before our wedding. The calculated plan to discard me from the very beginning.
"Leave," I said through the door. My first words were spoken out loud to him. "And don't come back."
I heard him sigh. I heard his footsteps moving away. Heard the elevator ding.
And then he was gone.
I stopped the recording and sent it to Monica.
Then I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, my back against the wood, my phone clutched in my hand.
And finally, finally, I let myself cry again.
Not because I still loved him. But because I was grieving the person I thought he was. The marriage I thought we had. The future I thought we were
building.
All of it was gone. All of it was a lie.
But I was still here.
Broken, maybe. Hurt, definitely.
But not destroyed.
Not yet.