Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Hi, I have an appointment with Ms. Judd."
The receptionist looks up from her computer. "Oh, Ms. Melroy."
I nod automatically at the mention of my maiden name. It's a testament to how much I loved Brad that I took his last name in the first place. Robinson.
For years, I was Mrs. Robinson. Now I'm Bronwyn Melroy again.
"Please take a seat. Ms. Judd is in a meeting."
I nod. Honestly, I expected that. I'd shown up almost thirty minutes early. It's not my fault that for the first time in my life there was apparently no traffic on the interstate.
Taking a seat, I glance around the waiting room. This had better be worth it.
An attorney three hours away in Houston isn't exactly convenient, but it's not like I'd be making this drive every week. Besides, Samantha Judd was one of the few highly-rated family law attorneys I found who practiced in both Texas and California.
That mattered.
Brad's attorney had sent over the settlement proposal when he said he would, but the lawyer who was supposedly going to call and explain everything never did.
Brad said he'd look into it.
I wasn't interested in waiting.
I called Ms. Judd instead. Her associate, Alan Mills, had been the one I'd spoken to this time. He asked me to send over the settlement proposal beforehand since it was such a long drive.
He said the wait for an appointment would probably be a week.
Instead, two days later, I got a call asking if I could come in that day.
That worried me.
A lot.
Because what exactly was in those papers that turned a one-week wait into forty-eight hours?
I tried reading the proposal myself. Tried being the important word.
The legal jargon made my eyes cross.
My parents told me to stop driving myself crazy and just wait for the lawyers to call me back.
So, I did.
"Ms. Melroy?"
I look up to find the receptionist standing beside me.
"If you'll follow me."
Standing, I smooth down my shirt and follow her through a hallway lined with offices. We stop at a set of double doors.
The receptionist opens one and smiles politely.
"They're waiting for you."
Nodding, I step inside.
A man immediately stands from one of the chairs.
"Alan Mills." He extends his hand. "We've been talking on the phone."
I shake it. "Nice to finally meet you."
"You too."
Behind the desk, a woman around my age stands as well.
"Samantha Judd." She walks around the desk and offers her hand.
"Bronwyn Melroy. Nee Robinson," I add awkwardly.
She doesn't even blink. Just nods once and gestures toward the chair across from her desk.
"Have a seat."
I do.
Alan takes the chair beside me while Samantha returns to her desk.
For a moment, neither attorney says anything. Which immediately makes me nervous.
Finally, Samantha folds her hands together.
"So, Ms. Melroy."
Uh oh. Her tone is one people use when they deliver bad news.
"We've reviewed the settlement proposal." She pauses. "And it's not good."
I grimace. "I had a feeling."
Alan nods. "You mentioned that your husband is hoping for an uncontested divorce."
"I'm not contesting it."
He shakes his head. "That's not what uncontested means. You can absolutely agree to the divorce but contest the terms."
Oh.
Well, that's already embarrassing.
"Right."
"Before we discuss the proposal," Samantha says, "we need to talk about our previous call."
I nod for her to continue.
"During our last conversation, you told us your ex intended to support you financially if you moved back to California. Child support, alimony, housing expenses."
"Yeah." I nod. "He said he'd take care of me."
"Based on that information, we advised that fighting for custody here would be more difficult and potentially not worth the expense."
"Right."
"I also understand that based on those discussions, you agreed to move back."
I nod again.
Samantha opens the file in front of her.
"According to the terms your ex has sent over, Mr. Robinson does not agree."
The knot in my stomach tightens. "What do you mean?"
Alan leans forward. "According to the proposal they've drafted, Mr. Robinson has agreed to pay alimony dependent upon your rent and living expenses for a limited period of time. Essentially just long enough for you to obtain employment."
I blink. "What?"
The word flies out before I can stop it.
Samantha nods.
"He is also requesting fifty-fifty custody."
My stomach drops.
"Which means there would be no child support obligation."
I stare at her. A cold feeling settles in my chest.
"He works long hours, so he wanted me to stay home," I say quietly. "He said he'd rather have me raising our children than a stranger."
The words sound pathetic the second they leave my mouth.
"Now he expects me to get a job immediately?"
"Mrs. Melroy," Samantha says carefully, "have you worked before?"
The question shouldn't bother me. It does.
"Of course I have."
"What field?"
I hesitate.
"Brad and I met in college. When we moved to LA for the rest of his residency, we were kind of broke and one of us had to work, “so..." I shrug helplessly. “I worked some odd jobs.
Samantha nods.
"So you worked to support him?"
"Mostly." I nod. "He had a trust fund for college, so we weren't in debt or anything, but his parents refused to help once we moved to LA and he didn't want to ask mine."
"And after that?"
"Well, once he started making money, I was gonna go back to work. Start my internship." I lick my dry lips. "But he encouraged me to stay home. I mean, I'd been working for years already and we wanted kids, so it made sense."
Alan scribbles something down. "It was his idea?"
I nod. "I agreed to it."
Samantha stares down at the file.
"Bronwyn," she says carefully, "we have some concerns about this… proposal."
I lean back in my chair. "What do you mean?"
Alan reaches for the proposal.
"The language used throughout this document is unusually complex."
I blink. "Isn't that normal?"
"No."
Both attorneys answer at the same time.
That can't be good.
Alan flips through several pages.
"Legal language is normal. Making something difficult to understand is not."
He taps a section.
"There are clauses in here that would be easy for a non-attorney to overlook."
My pulse starts pounding.
"Like what?"
"Limitations on future support. Ambiguous language regarding modifications. Several provisions that heavily favor your husband's position if disputes arise later."
I stare at him dumbfounded.
Samantha folds her hands on her desk.
"What concerns us most is that they wanted you to use counsel affiliated with the same firm."
"Brad said we'd have different lawyers."
"We saw that."
She nods.
"And while there are situations where collaborative divorce arrangements exist, the way this was presented raises questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"The kind that made us move your appointment up from next week to today."
I suddenly understand why Alan sounded so strange on the phone.
"I'm sorry." I clear my throat. "Are you saying Brad's lawyers are trying to screw me over?"
Samantha's answer comes immediately.
"That's the thing."
She taps the name of the firm printed at the top of the proposal.
"Bane, Williams & Saldana is one of the most respected firms in California. They wouldn't knowingly risk their reputation over something like this." She shakes her head. "I interned under Mr. Saldana during law school. I know how seriously he takes professional ethics."
She slides the proposal toward herself again.
"Which is why I'd like your permission to contact him directly."
My mouth falls open. "Is that... normal?"
"It is when something appears inconsistent."
I look between her and Alan. "You're worrying me."
"That's not my intention." Samantha's voice softens slightly. "Bronwyn, there are several possible explanations here. A junior attorney could have drafted this."
"And the worst-case scenario?"
Another look passes between the attorneys.
"The worst-case scenario," Alan says carefully, "is that someone expected you to sign this without seeking independent counsel."
My stomach drops. "Oh."
Samantha nods.
"I know this sounds overwhelming, but it could actually work in your favor."
"How?"
She lets out a small breath. "Because if someone knowingly attempted to mislead you, that's a different issue entirely. Judges care about conduct during the divorce process."
I stare at her for a moment, realization slowly dawning.
"So I should be praying for fraud?"
A startled laugh escapes Alan.
Samantha smiles lightly. "I wouldn't put it quite like that."
I bite back my own smile and consider it, fighting the urge to tap my fingers against the armrest like a villain.
Oh dear, Bradley.
Did you just dig your own grave?