3. Chapter Three
Chapter three
Inés
It is my brother Teddy who convinces me to visit Judge Vasquez-Holt. "She's been asking about you for a while now," he says, over our regular phone call. I have not spoken to her since the funeral, though I know she was there.
I do not want to see her. She represents so much of my father that it is too painful. And she is the kind of woman who never lets anything go unnoticed.
I think about her all day. My father, Mateo, was a professor of literature.
He and Judge Vasquez-Holt taught at Columbia for many years, and they were close.
When he died of cancer six years ago, I was the one who found him.
He was alone in his apartment, with no one to look after him except the nurses who came twice a week.
That is when I decided I would never be like him: I would marry someone who loved me, someone I could trust to be there when it counted.
Now, as I look around the empty apartment Harrison and I share, I wonder if I have achieved that after all.
We have been married for nine years, and in all that time, I cannot think of a single day when we have been truly alone together.
He has his own life, and I have mine, but what about our life?
What about the things we should be doing together?
It is getting dark when I finally call her number.
"Hello, Inés," she says, as if she was expecting me all along. "I've been wondering when you would get in touch."
Her voice is calm, authoritative. I remember her sitting at the funeral with my mother, their heads together, whispering. She was the only one who didn't try to comfort me or tell me it would be all right. She just looked at me, her eyes full of sorrow and... Understanding, maybe.
"I need to talk to you," I say now, my own voice shaky. "About my marriage."
She is silent for a moment, then says, "Come to my home tomorrow morning at ten. I work from there most days now."
And that is that.
***
I stand outside the building, my heart racing, trying to work out what I will say. It has been so long since I spoke openly to anyone about Harrison, to anyone who isn't paid to listen to me. I don't know how to explain what is happening. I don't even know if anything is wrong, really.
She answers the door in a sharp black suit, her silver hair cropped short. She looks exactly as she did at the funeral. Strong and unyielding.
"Inés," she says and smiles gently. "Come in."
Her apartment is clean and spare, just as I remember it. No photographs on the walls, no clutter. It is like being in a courtroom.
She sits behind her desk and gestures for me to take the seat opposite.
"How are you?" she asks, looking at me intently.
"I'm fine," I say, then shake my head. "No. I don't know. I feel... lost, I think."
She nods, waiting for me to go on. She was never much of a talker, but that was something I appreciated about the woman. She let me and my father do the talking.
"I think something is happening at work," I say, trying to find the right words. "I don't know if it's in my head or not, but I feel like I'm being pushed out."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't interrupt.
"Harrison's ex-girlfriend is back. She's working for us now, and she's taking over my job, bit by bit.
" I swallow hard. "I know it sounds stupid, but I can't shake the feeling that there's more to it than that.
Like he's planning something... And he won't talk to me about it.
" I shrug. "Or maybe his ex is. Or something. But I don't know."
Judge Vasquez-Holt looks at me for a long time, her dark eyes searching my face. I have the sudden urge to cry. To tell her everything: how scared I am of losing him, of being alone again. But I don't. Instead, I just stare back at her and wait for her judgment.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "First things first. You, dear, need to be clear about what you want," she says at last. "Not what you're afraid of, or what you think might happen. But what do you want from Harrison?"
I shake my head. "I just want things to go back to normal," I whisper. "For us to be happy again."
She nods slowly. "And what is normal? What does happy look like for you two?"
"We used to have so much fun," I say, and my voice cracks a little. "We laughed, we went out, we talked about everything. But now... He's always busy. He barely looks at me most days."
The judge leans back in her chair. "And how long has this been going on?"
"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "A few months, maybe. Since she started working with us."
She nods again, considering this. "So, you think it's because of her."
I hesitate. To be honest, I don't think I've admitted that out loud before.
"Yes," I whisper. "I do."
Judge Vasquez-Holt sighs. "Inés, you know as well as I do that relationships are complicated.
People don't always act the way we want them to.
" She looks at me intently. "But if you want to save your marriage, you need to stop thinking about her and start thinking about what you and Harrison need from each other. "
I nod, though I'm not sure I agree. It's easy for her to say, when she doesn't have to see them together every day. But I know she's right about one thing: I can't keep going on like this.
"What do you suggest?" I ask quietly. "How do I make him see me again?"
The judge smiles sadly. "You can't make anyone see you, my dear," she says. "But you can be clear about what you want. You can set boundaries. You can decide what you will and won't accept in your marriage."
I bite my lip, feeling the sting of tears. It all sounds so hard. So much harder than just being good enough for him.
"What if he doesn't listen?" I ask, my voice small.
"Then you'll have to decide what that means for you," she says simply. "Because, Inés, at the end of the day, you are the only one who can truly know what is best for you."
I nod, though I don't feel any better. She can see that, I think.
She reaches across the desk and puts her hand over mine. Her fingers are warm and steady. "I know this is hard," she says softly. "But you are stronger than you think."
We sit in silence for a while, her hand on mine, both of us thinking. Finally, she clears her throat and sits back.
"Now," she says, all business again. "That was your therapy session. But sometimes, love and life are not enough."
I look up at her, confused.
"There are practicalities, my dear. Things you need to think about." She leans forward again. "What do you own? What is yours alone?"
I blink at her, unsure what she means.
"If you decide to walk away—and I do not suggest you take that course of action lightly—what can you take with you?"
I shake my head. "Nothing," I say quietly. "Everything is his."
She raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"
And I realize, suddenly, that maybe I'm not.
***
I leave Judge Vasquez-Holt's apartment with my head spinning, trying to remember everything we've discussed. She gave me a lot to think about. But what stuck with me the most was her final piece of advice.
"If Harrison doesn't see you again, you need to be sure you have a course of action; something to secure yourself with," she'd said.
So that night, after Harrison has gone to bed, I sit in my little office and go through all our finances. Our joint accounts, the house, the cars... Nearly everything is in his name, of course. But I think back to the thunderbolt that struck me earlier that afternoon.
Something I nearly forgot about: the trademark for one of our flagship book series.
It had been my idea to register it in my name alone, just in case something happened and someone else tried to take it. Harrison had agreed without hesitation, signing the consent forms that made me the sole owner of the intellectual property.
He'd been on his phone at the time, but didn't seem bothered. It had seemed like a small thing at the time, just a precaution. But now...
Now I see what Judge Vasquez-Holt meant. That little piece of paper, with my name on it, could be key in case things went south. It wouldn't be airtight, but that plus my name on the training manual copyright and author relationships...it might mean something.
I didn't want to depend on that, though. I wanted to fix my marriage, not plan for its end.
But it was comforting, at least, to know that if it came down to it, I would have some power of my own. I wasn't a mere decoration at L&B.
I put away the paperwork and turned off the light. I'd try to talk to Harrison tomorrow. Really talk. Maybe I could make him understand how I feel.
But first, I needed a plan.
I went into the bedroom, slipped under the covers beside my husband, and closed my eyes.
I would fight for what was mine. I'd just have to be smart about it.