4. Elise
— ? —
Elise
Two Weeks After the Vow Renewal
Victoria Cross is terrifying.
That’s my first thought when I walk into her office, a sleek corner suite on the forty-second floor of a downtown high-rise, all glass and chrome and intimidation.
She’s sitting behind a desk that probably costs more than my car, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she reviews a file.
My file, I realize. She’s been doing her homework.
“Elise Reid.” She looks up, and her smile is the kind that makes opposing counsel wake up in cold sweats. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You have?”
“Dominic speaks very highly of you. And I’ve seen the video.” She gestures to the chair across from her. “Please, sit. We have a lot to discuss.”
I sit. Dominic takes the chair beside me. He insisted on coming, said he wanted to make sure Victoria had all the context she needed. I told him I could handle it myself. He came anyway.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Victoria says, flipping open the file. “You and Connor Reid were married for six years. No children. You gave up your career in architecture to support his startup. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“And the affair with his assistant, Megan Walsh, has been ongoing for approximately fourteen months, beginning at a company conference in Austin.”
Hearing it laid out so clinically makes my stomach turn. “That’s what she said. At the... at the vow renewal.”
“It’s been corroborated.” Victoria slides a photograph across the desk.
“My investigator pulled hotel records, credit card statements, text messages. The affair began in August of last year. Connor rented her an apartment downtown in October. He’s been paying for it in cash - withdrawn from an account you didn’t know existed. ”
I stare at the photograph. It’s a building I don’t recognize, sleek and modern, the kind of place I used to dream about designing.
“He bought her an apartment?”
“Rented. But yes.” Victoria pulls out another sheet. “He also purchased jewelry - approximately forty thousand dollars’ worth over the past year. Designer bags. A car - a BMW, leased in her name but paid for from his accounts.”
Forty thousand dollars.
I think about every time I asked for something - a vacation, a nice dinner, a weekend away - and Connor said we needed to be careful with money. The company was growing, but so were expenses. We had to be smart.
Meanwhile, he was buying his mistress diamonds.
“The good news,” Victoria continues, “is that your prenup has a fidelity clause. Ironclad. If either party engages in infidelity during the marriage, all financial protections are voided.”
“So he gets nothing?”
“Better. You get everything the clause entitles you to.” She smiles that shark smile again. “Given the public nature of his exposure, there’s no way to argue the clause wasn’t triggered. We have video evidence. Twelve million witnesses.”
For the first time in two weeks, something loosens in my chest.
“What about the company?” Dominic asks. “Connor’s shares in Reid Technologies?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.” Victoria pulls out another document.
“Community property laws in this state mean Elise is entitled to half of all assets acquired during the marriage. Connor’s stake in the company has grown significantly in the past six years - largely, I might add, because of the support and sacrifices Elise made to enable his success. ”
“I hosted investors,” I say quietly. “Planned events. Managed the household so he could focus on work. I was basically an unpaid employee.”
“And now you’ll be compensated.” Victoria makes a note. “I’m going to push for forty percent of his company shares, plus the house, plus a settlement that reflects the full scope of his betrayal.”
“Forty percent?”
“He cheated on you for over a year while you sacrificed your career to support him. He humiliated you publicly in a way that will follow you for the rest of your life. He used marital funds to finance his affair.” She looks at me over her glasses. “Forty percent is generous. I could push for more.”
I glance at Dominic. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“Do it,” I say. “Push for more.”
Victoria’s smile widens. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
***
The next three weeks are a blur of depositions, document reviews, and legal strategy sessions.
Victoria’s investigator - a quiet, intense woman named Sarah who looks like she could kill you with a paperclip - digs into every corner of Connor’s life. Every secret account. Every hidden transaction. Every lie.
The picture that emerges is even worse than I imagined.
“He’s been planning this for at least two years,” Sarah reports during one of our strategy sessions. “The offshore accounts, the shell companies - this isn’t impulsive. This is systematic.”
“Planning what, exactly?” I ask.
“Asset protection. He was moving money into accounts you couldn’t touch, setting up structures that would survive a divorce.
” She slides a chart across the table, a web of companies and accounts that makes my head spin.
“If the affair hadn’t been exposed publicly, if you’d found out privately and filed for divorce, he would have claimed these assets were business-related. Untouchable.”
“So he was going to leave me with nothing.”
“That appears to be the plan, yes.”
I think about all those nights he came home late, claiming he was working. All those business trips that now look like romantic getaways with Megan. All those times he told me to be patient, that our future was coming, that everything he was building was for us.
Lies. All of it.
“What about Megan?” Dominic asks. “What’s her story?”
Sarah hesitates. “That’s... complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
She pulls out a new file. “Megan Walsh. Twenty-six years old. Started as an administrative assistant at Reid Technologies three years ago. By all accounts, she was excellent at her job - organized, efficient, well-liked by colleagues.”
“And then she started sleeping with my husband.”
“Approximately fourteen months ago, yes.” Sarah pauses. “But here’s the thing - I don’t think she planned this. Not initially.”
“What do you mean?”
“The early messages between them are... different. Connor pursued her aggressively. She resisted at first - there are texts where she says she’s uncomfortable, that he’s married, that this isn’t appropriate.”
“She didn’t resist very hard,” I say bitterly.
“No. Eventually, she gave in. But the dynamic shifted over time.” Sarah pulls out printed text messages. “By month six, she was completely devoted. Believed everything he told her. He promised he’d leave you, that they’d be together, that she was the love of his life.”
I scan the messages. They’re painful to read - Megan’s desperate devotion, her constant need for reassurance, Connor’s empty promises.
I love you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.
She doesn’t understand me like you do.
Just a little longer, baby. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.
“She’s not a con artist,” Sarah continues. “She’s a woman who fell in love with a man who lied to her. Just like you.”
The comparison makes me flinch.
“That doesn’t excuse what she did,” Dominic says. “She knew he was married. She chose to pursue it anyway.”
“I’m not excusing it. I’m explaining it.” Sarah closes the file. “Megan believed she was the love story. She crashed that vow renewal because she genuinely thought Connor would choose her. That once the secret was out, they could finally be together.”
“And now?”
“Now she’s five months pregnant with his baby, watching him try to salvage his reputation while barely acknowledging her existence.” Sarah shrugs. “Karma, I suppose.”
I should feel satisfaction. Vindication. But instead, I just feel tired.
“What about her cousin?” I ask. “Julie? The event coordinator?”
“Ah, yes.” Sarah pulls out another sheet. “Julie Walsh. Megan’s cousin on her mother’s side. Connor hired her specifically because of the connection to Megan - though he told you she came ‘highly recommended.’”
“She was feeding information to Megan the whole time.”
“Every detail. Guest list, timeline, seating chart. Megan knew exactly when to walk in for maximum impact.” Sarah shakes her head. “It was coordinated. They planned the whole thing.”
I think about Julie’s bright smile, her eager questions, her constant reassurances that everything was going to be perfect.
She was helping destroy my marriage the entire time.
“Can we do anything about that?” I ask. “Legally?”
“Not directly. But we can use it.” Victoria speaks up from behind her desk. “The coordination proves premeditation. Connor wasn’t caught off-guard - he knew Megan was going to crash that ceremony. He could have stopped it. He chose not to.”
“Why would he let her do that? It destroyed him too.”
“Because he was losing control of the situation.” Victoria leans back in her chair. “Megan was getting impatient. Demanding he follow through on his promises. The pregnancy accelerated her timeline. He was running out of ways to stall.”
“So he let her blow everything up.”
“Or he underestimated her. Thought he could manage the fallout.” Victoria’s expression is knowing. “Men like Connor always think they can manage everything. Until they can’t.”
***
The divorce is finalized on a Tuesday.
I wear red.
Victoria advised me to look composed, confident, untouchable. You’re not the victim anymore, she said. You’re the woman who survived. Dress like it.
So I put on my fiercest dress, a crimson sheath that hugs every curve, and my highest heels, and I walk into that courtroom like I own it.
Connor is already there. He looks terrible - pale, thinner than I’ve ever seen him, dark circles under his eyes. His lawyer is whispering urgently in his ear, probably warning him about what’s about to happen.
I don’t look at him.