Married To Money

Chapter 2

SOLEI

You could cut the tension with a knife inside the private law office on the thirty-second floor.

There were no security checkpoints, marble halls, or a public gallery filled with curious onlookers.

None of that courthouse shuffle and dance.

Instead, I sat in a chilled conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city of East Hollis on mahogany furniture that cost more than the average person could afford.

Judge Denise Crawford, an almost-retired judge who’d been paid an obscene amount of money to handle this quietly, sat at the head of the table.

She was a Black woman in her sixties with silver hair.

She had a reputation for being fair but discreet–the kind of judge who understood that some matters needed to happen away from the public eye.

I sat across from Money with my lawyer, Sarah Jones, beside me.

Gerald Simmons, Money’s longtime attorney, sat beside him, crisp in his expensive suit.

As he specialized in keeping powerful men out of trouble, his eyes darted between Money and me, his fingers drumming anxiously on his briefcase, as if bracing for the moment he sensed was coming.

Money wore an all black suit and a black shirt with no tie.

His jewelry was minimal but expensive–a diamond-encrusted AP watch, thick gold Cuban link chains just visible at his collar, and the one-of-a-kind natural black opal wedding band I’d bought him.

His fade was fresh and his beard perfectly lined.

As always, he looked like money and power, and he was staring at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

“We’re here today for a separation hearing in the matter of Winters-Madden v.

Madden,” Judge Crawford announced, her tone professional and measured.

“Mrs. Winters-Madden, you’ve filed for legal separation, citing irreconcilable differences and requesting joint custody of the minor children, Montana Madden, Jr., and Solina Madden. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I replied, my voice steady despite the way my hands were shaking a bit.

“Mr. Madden, do you understand the nature of these proceedings?” Money didn’t answer her immediately. He just kept staring at me, his jaw tight and his hands clenched in his lap. His eyes were dark with possession, obsession, anger, and heartbreak. “Mr. Madden?” the judge repeated.

Gerald leaned over and whispered something to him. Money’s lip curled in what might have been a smile but looked more like a threat. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I understand.”

Judge Crawford nodded and reviewed the paperwork. Sarah outlined our case: fifteen years together, thirteen years married, the children’s needs, and our proposed custody plan. It was all procedural and by-the-book, but Money didn’t care about any of it.

He sat there, silent and still, radiating menace.

Every few seconds, his eyes flicked to the judge, then back to me.

He wasn’t listening to the legal arguments.

He made calculations, assessed threats, and decided who needed to be dealt with.

When my lawyer mentioned the restraining order I’d considered filing, Money’s entire body went rigid.

“Your Honor,” Sarah pressed on, “Mrs. Winters-Madden has expressed concerns about Mr. Madden’s... uh, business associations and their potential impact on the children’s safety.”

“Nah.” The word landed, cutting the silence.

Judge Crawford looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

Money leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands tightly.

His voice was dangerously calm, signaling a threat beneath the surface.

“I said nah. We’re not doin’ no restrainin’ order bullshit.

Solei knows, regardless of anything else, I’d never hurt her or my kids.

And I damn sure wouldn’t let anybody touch them.

What the fuck is this dumb shit, Solei?”

Gerald put a hand on his arm. “Let me handle this.”

“Get the fuck off me, Gerry.” Gerald pulled back like he’d been burned.

Judge Crawford’s expression hardened. “Mr. Madden, you need to let your attorney speak on your behalf. That’s how this works.”

Money’s laugh was cold and humorless. “That’s how this works?

” He gestured around the conference room.

“This whole shit is a joke. You think some papers and a gavel gon’ separate me from my family?

You think I’m gon’ sit here and let y’all tell me when I can see my fuckin’ kids? When I can talk to my wife?”

“Mr. Madden…” Judge Crawford started to say.

“She’s my wife,” he cut in, his voice rising.

“Been my wife and gonna stay my wife. I don’t give a fuck what this paperwork says.

” The security guard stationed outside the door shifted uncomfortably.

Money noticed and smiled widely, showing off his perfectly white teeth.

“You’re gonna arrest me for lovin’ my family?

” he asked, looking directly at the guard through the glass. “That’s what we’re doin’ now?”

“Mr. Madden, if you cannot control yourself, I will hold you in contempt,” Judge Crawford said, but I could hear the tremor in her voice. She was scared. This woman, who’d presided over hundreds of cases, who’d faced down abusers and criminals and deadbeat dads, was scared of my husband.

Maybe because she could see what I’d always known.

The law didn’t apply to him. Not really.

He existed outside of it, above it, and beyond it.

He’d built an empire in the shadows, moved product through the city, and made people disappear when they crossed him.

He did it all while smiling, shaking hands, and playing the game.

But I was tired of being a pawn on the board. Exhausted.

“Contempt?” Money repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, aight. Hold me in contempt. Lock me up. Do you know the type of pull I have in this city?” It wasn’t a threat but a promise.

Gerald was sweating now and frantically whispering to Money, trying to salvage the situation. Money ignored him completely. His eyes were on me again, burning with intensity.

“Solei.” My name on his lips made my stomach drop. “Don’t do this," he pleaded, his voice different now–softer, almost begging. “Don’t let these people tell you what we are. What we got is bigger than this shit. You know that.”

“Mr. Madden, you cannot address the petitioner directly…” Judge Crawford tried to interject.

“I’m talkin’ to my wife,” Money retorted, not even looking at her. “Soul. Baby, look at me.”

Fuck. He called me the nickname he’d been calling me for the last fifteen years. Soul. He’d always told me, “Fuck just being my heart. You’re my Soul.”

There was something about the way he said this time. I couldn’t help it. I looked and what I saw in his eyes terrified me. Love. Obsession. Certainty. The absolute, unshakeable belief that I belonged to him, that I would always belong to him, and no court in the world could change that.

“You think you can leave me?” he asked quietly. “You think you can take my kids and just… what? Start over? Fuck with somebody else?”

“Money, please…”

“Answer me.”

Sarah put a hand on my arm. “Don’t engage, Solei.”

Money stood up, but he didn’t move to my side of the conference table. He didn’t need to. His six-foot-four, two-hundred sixty-pound, muscular presence filled the room, making everyone acutely aware of the power he wielded.

“Sit down, Mr. Madden,” Judge Crawford ordered, her voice shaking now. “Sit down right now, or I will have you removed.”

Money looked at her like she was a child who’d said something amusing. “Shut the fuck up and remember who paid your early retirement fee. That’s how you’re able to sit in that chair right now, correct?” That shut her up. She cleared her throat and shuffled the papers before her.

“Montana, please,” I begged, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. My hand trembled as I looked at him. “Let’s just get this over with. Please.”

Money took a good look around the conference room, nodding his head. Then he reached for the separation agreement paperwork, flipped through a couple of pages, and actually signed it.

Looking directly at me, he said, “I’m gon’ walk out of here, and you’re gonna realize that all this doesn’t mean shit. Because at the end of the day, you’re mine, and those kids are mine. And ain’t no piece of paper on this fuckin’ planet gon’ change that.”

He buttoned his suit jacket and exhaled; his expression softened just slightly.

“I love you, Soul,” Money continued. “I know I fucked up. I know I’ve hurt you. But I love you and my kids more than anything in this world. So, I’ll give you space and time, but I’m not lettin’ you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Then he walked out of the courtroom without the judge’s permission. Gerald scrambled after him, calling his name. I remained seated, shaking my head and feeling my heart pound.

The conference room fell silent. Judge Crawford sat with her face pale and her hands trembling as she shuffled papers.

The security guard spoke into his radio, probably calling for backup that wouldn’t matter.

Sarah stared at the door Money had walked through, mouth slightly open.

The legal system couldn’t protect me from Money.

No restraining order, custody agreement, or separation decree would keep him away if he decided to come close. He’d just proven that.

“Mrs. Winters-Madden?” Judge Crawford’s voice was quiet. “Do you... do you feel safe?”

I almost laughed. Safe? Money wouldn’t hurt me. Maybe he’d get rough, pin me down to make a point, but nothing worse. “I’m fine,” I answered. “Let’s just... let’s just finish this. Please.”

The hearing went on, and by the end, the separation papers were filed, agreements were made, and custody was arranged. All very official, very legal, and very real.

And as I left the office that day, walking to my car in the underground parking garage, I couldn’t stop the tears that flowed.

After fifteen years together and two kids, Money and I were officially separated.

After years of being entangled in his criminal web, years of cheating, years of lying, and years of me saying I was going to leave, I finally did it.

But, deep down, I didn’t really want to leave Money completely.

Hence, the legal separation. I wanted to make him sweat.

I wanted him to see that after almost two decades together, I’d grown to see my worth as a woman, mother, and wife.

I wanted him to see that I wasn’t that sheltered, naive twenty-two-year-old he snatched up all those years ago.

I wanted to see if he could really change and be the man he’d been promising me could be.

So, yes, I filed for separation. I had to.

Putting distance between us and setting boundaries were necessary, and while it was eating me up inside, I knew it was for the best. But knowing my husband, there was only so much time and space he could deal with before he would come for me.

Because being married to Montana “Money” Madden meant forever and nothing less.