CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
COURTNEY
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I’m in my jeans and a soft pink cashmere sweater, sitting on a stool in the kitchen while sipping my second coffee of the day.
I stare at the unread message notifications on my phone. The same ones that woke me up in the middle of the night, despite the device being silent. It must have been the screen lighting up over and over.
Zander.
I’m so mad at him still, but drunk Zander is playful and cheeky, and I’m trying hard not to eagerly open them.
That argument would be more believable if I wasn’t the second man you’d fucked since leaving your husband.
Ouch.
The insinuation behind it was very unkind, and I cannot believe he essentially called me a slut.
I stormed out of his office but have wanted to march back in there a dozen times to give him another piece of my mind.
I will take you up on your offer. Get me a new attorney.
Yet again, he hasn’t done that, and neither have I pushed. My emotions are all over the show since that horrible day.
Zander thinks he knows who I am. He has from the start treating me like I’m some gold digger and now...a loose woman.
How dare he.
Yes, I grew up poor, and he can paint that picture how he likes, but I fell for Adam, and part of that was the sense of security he gave me, not because I wanted to go shopping in Beverly Hills for ten years. Or whatever he thinks women like that do.
I’m not one of them.
I wanted to get a college degree and try my hand at starting a business. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted...
Sadness fills my chest, creating an ache.
Being accused of being pregnant when you can’t have a child is probably the worst thing in the world. Well, not really, but it still feels horrible.
I am carrying this alone.
While also waiting for this divorce to go through. My marriage to Adam has been so different from what I imagined. I refused to marry a man like my father, who was abusive, broke, and unreliable, but it turns out the jokes on me; Adam was two of those things.
What caused him to be so cruel?
Surely his parents' desire to be grandparents wouldn’t make him suddenly become a violent husband, and yet it appears that it did.
His patience ran out.
In my private moments of despair, I’m heard a tiny whisper that says, but you left. I didn’t really know what that meant, but the voice has got louder, and finally, as I stormed out of Zander’s office last week, I realized, I’m not a woman who puts up with shit.
Sure, it's taken me a decade or more to become more powerful in my own right, but saying no to being attacked by Adam, saying no to Zander speaking to me the way he has—that’s being strong.
That’s being powerful.
That’s a woman well beyond what my mother has been, not turning to drugs or alcohol but seeing her worth. And more so every day.
I don’t yet have a degree, but I will.
I may not be able to have children, but perhaps I’ll find a cause with little kids who need help and contribute both time and money.
Unlike any other time in my life, I don’t need anyone to save me.
I saved myself.
And everything I’ve been through has taught me what love should look like. While trying to conceive, I saw other couples going through the same thing, and there was affection, support, and love from the husbands and partners.
Not always, but I could see the difference.
Sure, there was also fear in many of their eyes, but the good men sat close, held hands, and comforted their wives.
Adam never came with me except for one appointment. It took for me to be lying on the floor of our bedroom bleeding to truly admit what was in front of me.
A man who doesn’t love me.
I had delayed wanting a family for as long as he was willing to accept and then when I didn’t deliver, I lost value. He kicked me like I was a dog.
Now life has done a one-eighty on me. Zander thinks I’ve tricked him into getting pregnant.
Oh, the irony.
I can see why he’d think that. I’m at the age where women are settling down, having children, deciding between career and family. But he fails to remember that it was he who showed up on my doorstep without condoms. I hadn’t pursued him.
I’d also taken the first Plan B pill. You’d think the silly lawyer would look at the evidence before accusing me of sleeping around to get knocked up.
Yuck.
I still can’t believe he said all those things to me. I should’ve told him I was infertile and let him simmer in shame.
I still might.
Except it’s me who would be humiliated.
I bite my lip, staring at the messages, wondering if they contain information about the replacement attorney. I’m sure Zander has very good partners who could step in, but I want him.
I want him in another way also, but I’ll shoot myself before admitting that to him ever again.
It’s unlikely given the time the messages were sent. At least he didn’t turn up at my home wanting sex.
Oh, you think you’d be able to turn him down, do you?
Ugh, stupid brain, stop it. I need to focus on what happened during the meeting with my horrible husband and the shocking photograph he has had mocked up.
I know it’s fake; John never came to our home because I didn’t meet him until after I’d left.
How dare he make me out to be some cheap philanderer in front of all the lawyers? If he posts anything further on social media, I will sue him for defamation.
I’m done.
Sterling Obsidian drafted the following letter, which I approved midweek, and was told it was sent to Adam’s legal team.
To Counsel,
Following Monday’s meeting with our clients, our experts advise that the photograph supplied as evidence of Mrs. Courtney Blackmore and John Dell is not real or original. In addition, Mr. Dell has signed an affidavit saying that he’s never been to the address of the marital home.
New York is an equitable distribution state, so unless and until your client can produce credible evidence— and clearly he cannot—these accusations will be treated as an attempt to intimidate.
We will not be negotiating.
Fifty percent is more than reasonable, and we request a final meeting where our clients will sign and agree to this division of assets and finalize their divorce.
Regards
Zander Sterling, Esq., LL.M.
Founding Partner
Sterling Obsidian I just need to walk.
Like Forrest Gump.
Soon my divorce will be settled, and I’ll have to make some decisions about my life. Will I go to college? Move out of New York?
Adopt?
Date?
I’m tired, that’s all I know.