Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Robert’s attorney raised a hand and tutted loudly. “I would like to add that my client expects the full valuation of his wife’s previously undisclosed business, its assets and income, be documented and divided equally as marital property in the final settlement.”
His words landed like a slap. My ears rang and my head reared back.
The judge granted the request for recess.
My attorney moved me to a conference room and closed the door.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, her voice a harsh whisper. “You own a company?”
“I can explain,” I said.
Her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips into a thin white line. “Please,” she said. “Otherwise, imagine how horribly embarrassing it would be for me to go in front of the judge and opposing counsel without all the information necessary to properly represent your case.”
I took a seat at the little table and cringed, because of course, she was right.
“When I filed for divorce, I rarely had more than one order a week.
In the three years since launching the Invisible Baker, I never made enough money to necessitate filing taxes in our state.
In fact, before I moved out, I usually lost money on my baking.
But I paid for my supplies out of our household account.
I bought the ingredients with the rest of our groceries, then put the money I earned from the baked goods aside for this very day. Or rather, the day I hired you.
“Recently, however, things have changed. My little start-up grew legs and finally started making money. Now Robert wants to take it from me.” My voice cracked, and I pressed a palm to my chest. Of course he did. He took everything, and he ruined it.
My attorney exhaled a long, exhausted breath. “He’s entitled to half,” she said. “Just as you are.”
Tears blurred my eyes and outrage clogged my throat.
“That’s not what’s happening,” I snapped.
“He’s keeping all that he thinks is his, and he’s claiming half of what’s mine too.
He’s cheating and stealing. He’s reminding me that he’s always in control.
And he always wins.” I wiped my wet cheeks and growled.
“You can’t let him do this.” I’d worked too hard and come too far.
She nodded and shoved away from the table. “All right. No settlement today, then. We’ll go to trial and hope the forensic accountants have something for us by then.”
We returned to the courtroom and affirmed we would go to trial.
Nothing could be finalized without a detailed report from the forensic accountant anyway.
Jill assured me, yet again, that I could trust the company I’d hired, even if they hadn’t been in contact since I paid their retainer.
And she said nothing that happened in court today was a setback. Just a surprise.
I kicked myself internally as I went in search of my friends. It had never once crossed my mind to mention the Invisible Baker when I completed the paperwork to hire my attorney.
Maybe because none of this had seemed real until a few weeks ago.
Not my ability to truly leave Robert behind.
Or the possibility I could support myself financially.
I definitely never imagined my cupcake endeavors could be seen as a real business entity by anyone other than myself.
Certainly not something Robert would demand half of in our divorce settlement.
The white noise and voices of the courthouse muddled together as I shuffled along, feeling as if I were underwater. I made eye contact with Alicia a split second before I saw my daughter, running along the hallway toward her father.
“Daddy!” Camilla called. She threw her arms around Robert’s neck.
I backed against the wall, confused by her enthusiasm and in need of support.
Alicia and Ilona rushed to my side.
“What’s that about?” Alicia asked.
I had no idea, and I couldn’t take my eyes off Camilla’s unbridled joy. Though only a few yards away, it felt as if I were watching her through a looking glass. A world where she passed me by for Robert simply didn’t exist. Yet there she was. With him. And happy.
“Hello to you too,” he said, beaming proudly to onlookers. “What’s all this about?”
“The dress!” she cried, releasing him to smile at his stupid face. “I received it today, and I can’t believe you did this! I knew you would, but I’m still so—ah!” She lunged at him again, pulling him into another tight, adoring hug.
My hug.
Alicia gripped my arm. “Oh, my god. She thinks—”
A small choking sob escaped my throat. Of course Camilla assumed Robert paid for the gown. Why wouldn’t she? How could I have afforded it? I’d always been financially dependent on my husband, and our daughter knew it.
“At first, I thought Jeff bought it,” Camilla said, eyes sparkling. “He swore he didn’t. Then I remembered you telling me you’d see what you could do to help, and I realized you found the money for my dress! I can’t believe it! Thank you!”
Robert’s initial confusion morphed into something dark as his gaze met mine. “Anything for my little girl,” he said.
I watched in horror as he wrapped an arm around her back and led her toward a set of nearby chairs. I wanted to riot and break them apart. I wanted to tell everyone he was lying again. I bought that dress! I did that for her! But how could I say that much without saying the rest?
That I broke into our home and found a boat title with my name under the floorboards while he was away. Then I took it with me and sold our marital property without his knowledge or consent. And I used the money for her dress.
Alicia rubbed a palm against my shoulder blades. “This will be okay,” she whispered.
Strange. I couldn’t see how.
So I headed for the stairwell and walked away.
I didn’t open the Invisible Baker website for new sales.
The feelings of defeat that followed my pretrial weighed on me more heavily every day.
In the week leading up to the trip to France, I obsessed over all the things that had gone wrong, and it was impossible to stop the continuous, ugly loop.
Most days I felt as if I were sliding slowly down a mountain, into darkness, or back under the water.
I went to work. I came home and I slept.
I told my coworkers nothing was wrong, and I lied to Lucas when he asked, which only made me feel worse. We’d just promised not to keep things from one another, and I was already at it again. But I just couldn’t bring myself to voice this defeat out loud.
Still, he checked in on me before and after every shift. He sent me a countdown widget for our trip, after we exchanged phone numbers in preparation for travel, and updates on the anticipated weather.
Somehow my halfhearted responses didn’t reduce his enthusiasm.
Camilla sent texts, updating me on school, work, and wedding plans, too busy to notice I’d gone quiet. Alicia called every evening after dinner. I didn’t answer, but I texted to let her know I was fine. Ilona brought breakfast most mornings. I thanked her, but I was rarely hungry.
Raisin seemed to sense my growing depression, and he stuck by my side when I was home. We binge-watched television and napped on the couch before going to bed early. He snuggled with me for comfort and groomed my ratty hair when I cried.
Sometimes I read Mom’s notebooks and traced her messy scrawl with my fingertips.
I’d spent a lifetime angry with her, not understanding that she’d been defeated, tired, and depressed.
I never knew what that felt like until now.
No wonder she drank and rarely left home.
Forcing myself to shower before work was the worst part of my day.
I should’ve been excited about the free trip to France and the possibility of meeting my biological father, but instead, I hadn’t even packed.
I had no interest in plating food. I loved baking, but if Robert got half my company, I didn’t want the rest. Maybe that was petty, but he’d already taken everything from me, and if he took the Invisible Baker, too, it would be a hit I wouldn’t come back from. The thought stripped me of hope.
He was winning. Again. Taking. Again. And I was powerless to stop him.
Again.
My phone rang as I stared at my living room ceiling.
I rolled onto my side on the couch, dislodging Raisin from my chest. My attorney’s name and number centered the screen as I reached for the phone.
“Hi, Jill,” I said, doing my best to sound bright and cheerful.
“Hey, I wanted to call and give you an update,” she said. “I hate how pretrial ended, and I want you to know you won’t lose your business.”
I flopped onto my back again. Funny, I was just thinking about that.
I was always thinking about that.
“Your combined income between the restaurant and the LLC is still significantly less than Robert’s income,” she said.
“Taking any part of the baking business would mean he’d have to pay you more in spousal support, which makes no logical or financial sense.
The threat of taking half your company was a facade.
Their real goal was to shake us and make you look dishonest before the judge, but don’t worry.
I’ve shut them down and cleared things up.
He won’t mention taking anything from you again. ”
My eyes shut, too tired to fight. “What if I agree to sign the paperwork before I leave on my trip instead of waiting for trial?” I asked. “I don’t care if he keeps everything. The freedom of knowing it’s finally over will be priceless.”
The long silence that followed left me drifting. How could I still feel so tired?
“Sophie,” my attorney said, gently, patiently.
I dragged my eyes open once more.
“I understand what you’re feeling. Most of my clients reach a similar point at some time during the divorce process, and I’m going to tell you what I tell them: You hired me for a reason.
This is what I do, and I’m very, very good.
It might not look like it from where you are today, but things will be much better soon.
You’re almost there. And we’re not about to hand your husband everything he wants just because he thinks he’s entitled, or because he makes you feel some kind of way. He doesn’t get to do that anymore.”
I groaned.
“Go to France,” she said, her voice growing lighter.
“Leave your problems in this country for a few weeks and throw yourself into something new. Let me handle this. If anything significant happens, I’ll reach out.
Otherwise, trust that your life will still be here when you return, and trial will only be a week away.
Don’t let Robert take the joy of this trip from you too. ”
I reluctantly agreed to her request. Then I went back to sleep.