Chapter 15
I’ve got an appointment this morning with Stefanie Gorman, divorce attorney.
As I sit in the waiting room outside her office, furnished with mahogany chairs that look like they cost thousands each, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I need a lawyer, and Cora says she is amazing. But retaining an attorney makes this whole thing feel more real.
This is really happening. Jeremy and I are actually getting divorced. Or at least that is the path we are headed down unless I can make him see the truth about Veronica. But right now, most importantly, I need to protect myself.
“Mrs. Roth?”
I perk up at the sound of the receptionist for Stefanie Gorman calling out my name. She has a male receptionist, which I find weirdly cool. Plus, he’s really hot in a preppy sort of way. I keep sneaking looks at him over the magazine I’m pretending to read.
“You can go in now, Mrs. Roth,” the hot receptionist informs me.
“Thank you.”
I rise to my feet and smooth out the knee-length black skirt that I paired with a white blouse.
I even wrestled my hair into a neat bun, staring at my reflection in the tiny bathroom vanity mirror that I can’t ever seem to get 100 percent clean, no matter how much I scrub. I’m desperate to look professional.
Stefanie Gorman’s office is larger than my new apartment and furnished with expensive-looking furniture. Jeremy knows the expensive brands far better than I do, but my rule of thumb is that if a piece of furniture looks heavy, it’s probably expensive.
As for Stefanie Gorman herself, she is dripping with success—everything about her is immaculate, from her clothes to her makeup to her hair.
Her dark locks are pulled back like mine, although hers is much shinier, and she has it in some sort of complicated French twist. Her features are sharp and shrewd, but when she smiles at me, her face softens. I instinctively like her.
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Ms. Gorman,” I say.
“Please, call me Stefanie.” She reaches out to shake my hand, and her grip is surprisingly firm given her wiry frame. “Please have a seat, Mrs. Roth.”
“Naomi,” I correct her, offering her the same courtesy she gave to me.
I really like this woman. I wasn’t sold on the idea of going to a lawyer, but I trust her. She’s going to help me. I am so thankful to have her on my side.
Stefanie Gorman sits down at her desk across from me and laces her fingers together. “I should cut right to the chase,” she says. “I didn’t realize it until this morning, but I am unable to represent you.”
My jaw drops open. “What?”
“Unfortunately,” she says, “your husband, Jeremy Roth, has already retained my services. So it would be a conflict of interest for me to represent you as well.”
“That’s got to be a mistake.” I tug at my skirt, which is riding up my legs. “Jeremy already has a lawyer. Leonard Hardwick.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with Lenny Hardwick,” she says. “But regardless, your husband also retained my services.”
I shake my head, unable to understand what’s going on. I have finally found an advocate, and now it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me. Again. “Why would he retain the services of two different lawyers?”
“I’m not sure.” Stefanie is quiet for a moment, contemplating this turn of events. “There’s another excellent lawyer I can recommend. Carrie Moynihan. She’s one of the best divorce lawyers I know. In fact, let me give her a call right now.”
It seems strange that this attorney is willing to call another lawyer on my behalf, but if she’s willing to help me, I’m not going to stop her.
She picks up her cell phone, selects a number from her contacts, and a moment later, it sounds like she has a direct line to Carrie Moynihan.
She tells the other attorney my name, and after a moment of tense discussion, she puts down the phone and focuses her gaze back on my face.
“Well,” she says. “It seems that your husband has retained Carrie’s services as well.”
“I don’t understand.” My palms have become sweaty, and I wipe them on my skirt. “Why does my husband need three lawyers?”
“He doesn’t.” She leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving mine. “He retained all the best local divorce lawyers to keep you from being able to use them. Excuse me for saying so, but your ex is a bit of a shithead.”
I don’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t even know about how he tricked me into moving out. Or cleaned out our bank accounts. As much as I want Stefanie to be my lawyer, I’m not even sure I could afford her.
But as hard as I try, I can’t imagine the Jeremy I was married to doing these things to me. He’s not a shithead. He was the one who told me to get a good lawyer, so why would he make it so hard for me to find one?
It’s got to be Veronica who is behind this.
“What should I do?” I ask in a voice that I know sounds desperate.
She taps her immaculately manicured nails on her desk for a moment. “Actually,” she says, “I think I know somebody who would be perfect for you.”
“What if Jeremy already retained them?”
She laughs out loud. “Oh no. That won’t be an issue.”
She opens one of her desk drawers and fishes around inside for a moment. Finally, she comes up with a slightly bent business card and slides it across the table to me. I pick it up and read off the name. “Ezra Fletcher.”
“Right,” she says. “Except…” She reaches over and snatches the card out of my fingers. “Sorry, this phone number is probably wrong.” She scribbles a new number on the card and slides it back across her desk. “This number should work.”
“He’s a divorce attorney?”
One side of her lips quirks up. “Sort of a jack-of-all-trades. He’s really good though. Honestly, you’ll be in great hands.”
It’s extremely hard for me to imagine that this man, who doesn’t even have the correct number on his business card, could be as good as Stefanie Gorman, who ripped apart Cora’s prenup and also has the most gorgeous leather chair I’ve ever seen. But beggars can’t be choosers. Speaking of which…
“Also,” I add, “I’ve got a bit of a problem…”
She raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“My husband cleaned out all our bank accounts,” I admit. “So at the moment, I’m a little low on funds.”
“Shithead,” she mutters again, under her breath. “I’m sorry, Naomi. That’s awful. Ezra will help you out though. I’ll call him personally and explain the situation.”
Tears jump into my eyes. Stefanie Gorman doesn’t have to be this kind to me, but it means the world. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Hey, we women need to stick together.” She winks at me. “I might not be able to take your case, but I’m rooting for you, Naomi. I hope you take that i-banker bastard to the cleaners.”