Chapter 1 #2
“Before we begin,” Rachel said, settling back into her chair, “I want you to know that everything discussed in this room is confidential. Miller will be your primary contact throughout this process, but I’ll be leading the strategy and any court appearances.
We work as a team here. You’re not alone. ”
Something like gratitude, or maybe relief, flickered across Valerie’s face before she suppressed it. “That’s… Thank you. My last attorneys made me feel like I was just another file on their desk, just another billable hour.”
“You’re not,” Miller asserted. “We know this is your life, and we take that seriously.”
Valerie’s eyes met hers, and Miller saw the shine of tears being held back. “I knew I made the right choice coming here.”
Rachel led the conversation with ease, walking Valerie through the basics to establish the timeline of the marriage, division of assets, and what she was hoping to achieve.
Miller took notes, her pen moving steadily across the legal pad as she captured dates and details that condensed a marriage into concise bullet points.
But it was when Rachel asked about the marriage itself that Miller’s pen slowed.
“It wasn’t always bad,” Valerie said, her voice softening as a sad smile formed. “When we first met, Astoria was…magnetic. She made me feel like I was the only person in the room. I thought we were building a future together. I believed in her vision.”
“What changed?” Miller spoke up.
Valerie was quiet for a moment, her manicured fingers tracing the edge of her water glass.
“It was gradual, so gradual I didn’t even see it happening.
During the first few years, I was handling a lot of the day-to-day partnerships, networking, and relationship building with investors.
Astoria was the visionary, but I was the one making people feel valued, you know? Making them want to work with us.”
Miller nodded. She could picture Valerie’s warmth smoothing the edges of Astoria’s ice queen reputation.
“But somewhere along the way, my contributions started disappearing.” Valerie’s voice caught.
“Astoria would present my ideas in board meetings like they were her own. When investors complimented our client relationships, she’d accept the praise without mentioning me at all.
And when I tried to talk to her about it, she’d tell me that I was just oversensitive and imagining things.
” She pressed her lips together in a tight, thin line.
“After enough years of hearing that, you start to believe it.”
Rachel scribbled a note. “You mentioned in the intake there was financial control. Can you tell us more about that?”
“Yes. Everything went through Astoria. Everything.” Valerie’s hands moved as she spoke, elegant gestures that seemed to flow through her.
“I was COO of the hospitality division. On paper, I had authority, but any decision costing over fifty grand needed her approval. She’d question my judgment, second-guess my projections, and ask for reports I’d already sent her twice.
” A hollow laugh escaped her. “I once spent three weeks preparing a proposal for a boutique hotel acquisition, and Astoria rejected it in a five-minute meeting in front of the entire executive team. She didn’t even read the full proposal, just glanced at the summary page and said it wasn’t ‘strategically aligned.’”
Miller’s pen moved faster. She could feel the burn of Rachel’s attention beside her, both of them building the same picture: a woman who had been systematically and publicly diminished, her expertise dismissed, and her confidence eroded year by year.
“The isolation was the worst part,” Valerie continued, her voice dropping.
“I had good friends when we got married, but Astoria had opinions about them. Funny how they were always negative too. Lauren was ‘using me for access.’ Angela was ‘clearly attracted to me’ and made her uncomfortable. One by one, I stopped talking to them, telling them I was busy with work, but”—she shook her head—”I was just making excuses for her. I can see that now.”
“And the incident at the gala? Can you tell us about that?” Rachel prompted gently.
Valerie’s composure finally cracked, a slight crumbling around the edges of a well-maintained facade that was finally showing its seams. She reached for the tissue box on the table and pressed a tissue to the corner of her eye.
“The Phoenix Ridge Pride Gala last June.” Her voice thickened.
“Someone asked us when we were planning to have children. It was an innocent question, normal small talk at these types of events. But Astoria…” She inhaled, her breath shaky.
“She laughed and said, ‘Valerie can barely manage her own department. Can you imagine her trying to manage a child?’”
Miller felt something hot and tight in her chest, that familiar protective anger that surfaced whenever she heard stories like this.
“Everyone laughed,” Valerie whispered. “Because Astoria said it like a joke, as if it was charming, and I just stood there smiling, because what else could I do? Make a scene? I’d only be proving her right by being oversensitive.”
“I’m so sorry,” Miller said. “That’s humiliating.”
Valerie looked up from her crumpled tissue to meet her eyes, and Miller saw the exhaustion underneath the meticulous makeup, the bone-deep weariness of someone who’d spent years being told that her reality wasn’t real.
“You understand,” Valerie said softly. “Don’t you? What it’s like to be made invisible by someone who’s supposed to love you?”
Miller thought of every client who’d sat in that same chair, every story of slow erosion and confidence stripped away in increments so small they barely registered what was happening until it was too late and there was nothing left.
“I understand,” she said. “And we’re going to fight for you.”
Rachel walked Valerie through the next steps: discovery requests, documentation they’d need, and the timeline for mediation.
Miller listened, but part of her attention stayed fixed on the woman across the table, on the way Valerie had straightened in her chair at Miller’s words of reassurance, like someone who’d been given water after a long drought.
After the meeting wrapped up, Valerie paused before leaving and touched her arm. “Miller, thank you for taking the case and for”—her voice cracked and she cleared her throat—”and for believing me.”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
Valerie smiled, a tired but genuine expression, and walked toward the elevator, her heels clicking on the polished tile.
Rachel appeared at Miller’s side, watching her go. “Thoughts?”
“She’s credible,” Miller said immediately. “You’re right. She was consistent and specific with her story. She’s clearly just exhausted.”
Rachel made a small sound, neither agreement or disagreement. “She’s compelling, certainly. Let’s see what the documentation tells us.” Rachel met her eyeline. “Good work in there. She connected with you. That’s what we want.”
Miller nodded, still watching as the elevator doors closed behind Valerie Shepry-Dane. Good, she thought. Because that woman deserves someone rooting for her. She turned back toward her office to start the research process.
Miller’s office was half the size of Rachel’s.
No harbor view, just a slice of the brick building across the street and a persistent draft from the old windows.
But it was hers. There was organized chaos on the desk, a collection of mismatched coffee mugs on the bookshelf, and a framed photo of her moms taken last Christmas that she’d propped against the desk lamp.
She set down a fresh cup of coffee and opened her laptop.
She typed “Astoria Shepry” into the search bar, and the results came fast. She found business profiles, industry awards, and conference keynotes.
There was a Forbes feature from three years ago: “The Architect of Sustainable Luxury,” and a Phoenix Ridge Business Journal piece on Shepry Global’s expansion into eco-infrastructure.
On page two of the search results, she saw press releases announcing hotel openings, developmental projects, and charitable donations.
There was no shortage of information. Miller clicked through each link methodically, building a mental picture.
Astoria Shepry had founded her company at twenty-nine with a single distressed property and a vision.
Seventeen years later, Shepry Global Holdings employed over two thousand people and operated high-end developments across the Pacific Northwest. The company’s reputation was spotless: LEED certifications, fair labor practices, and aggressive sustainability targets.
As hard as Miller searched, she couldn’t find any lawsuits or scandals.
Not even a disgruntled former employee who’d gone public.
Professionally, Astoria Shepry was untouchable.
But personally? The woman was a ghost. She had no social media presence or interviews about her private life. The rare quotes in articles were crisp, revealing nothing. When journalists asked about her marriage, she deflected: “I prefer to keep my personal life personal.”
Miller pulled up the images tab and scrolled through photos: Astoria at a groundbreaking ceremony, shovel in hand and face neutral; Astoria accepting an award, a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes; Astoria at a charity gala—the same one from the case file—standing beside Valerie, who was beaming while Astoria looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
She scrolled more. In every photo, she was immaculate in her tailored suits with perfect posture, not a wisp of hair out of place.
Miller studied one image longer than the others: a candid shot from an industry event where Astoria was caught mid-conversation, her attention fixed somewhere off-camera. Her expression was different here, less guarded and softer around the eyes.
It didn’t match. The ice queen who publicly humiliated her wife shouldn’t have a face that looked like that, even for a moment.
Miller closed the tab. It didn’t matter. People were complicated, and abusers could be charming when they wanted to be. It was half of how they got away with it.
In eight days, she’d meet Astoria Shepry face to face. She expected cold efficiency and calculated dismissal, maybe even an attempt at intimidation. And she was ready for all of it.
Miller closed her laptop and reached for her coat. She’d done her research and knew exactly who Astoria Shepry was.
She was certain.