4. Elise #2
The hearing is brutal. Victoria eviscerates Connor’s defenses one by one, the hidden accounts, the lies, the systematic betrayal. His lawyer tries to argue that I benefited from the marriage, that I lived a comfortable lifestyle on Connor’s success.
Victoria produces receipts for every event I planned, every investor dinner I hosted, every sacrifice I made. She calculates the value of my unpaid labor. She lists the architecture commissions I turned down to support his career.
By the end, Connor’s lawyer is sweating.
The judge awards me the house. Forty percent of Connor’s company shares. A settlement that makes his legal team physically flinch.
I am now a significant stakeholder in Reid Technologies.
And I am free.
***
“Congratulations,” Victoria says afterward, shaking my hand in the courthouse lobby. “You did beautifully.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You could have.” She smiles. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”
She leaves, and I stand there for a moment, absorbing the reality of what just happened. Six years of marriage, dissolved in a single afternoon. All those dreams, all those plans, all that wasted time - reduced to a stack of legal documents and a very large check.
I should feel something. Victory, maybe. Or relief.
Instead, I just feel empty.
“Hey.”
I turn.
Dominic is leaning against a pillar near the exit, hands in his pockets, watching me with that unreadable expression I’m starting to recognize.
“You were incredible in there,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything. Victoria did all the talking.”
“You showed up. You held your head high. You didn’t let him see you break.” He pushes off the pillar, walking toward me. “That takes strength.”
“It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like survival.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
We stand there, looking at each other. The courthouse is emptying around us, lawyers and clients streaming past, but it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“So,” Dominic says. “What now?”
“I don’t know.” I laugh, and it sounds hollow. “For six years, my whole life revolved around Connor. His career, his needs, his future. I don’t even know who I am without him.”
“You’re going to figure it out.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you just walked out of a courtroom with forty percent of his company and a smile on your face.” His mouth curves. “That’s not a woman who doesn’t know who she is. That’s a woman who’s just getting started.”
I want to argue. I want to point out that I’m barely holding it together, that I cry in the shower every night, that I still wake up reaching for someone who isn’t there.
But when I look at Dominic, really look at him, I see something in his eyes that makes me pause.
Belief. He believes in me. Maybe more than I believe in myself.
“Have dinner with me,” he says.
“What?”
“Dinner. Tonight. To celebrate.” He holds up his hands. “Not a date. Just... two people who survived something. Sharing a meal.”
I should say no. It’s too soon. I’m too fragile. He’s Connor’s brother, for god’s sake.
But I’m so tired of being alone.
“Where?” I hear myself ask.
His smile is slow, warm, transformative. Like watching the sun come out after a storm.
“I know a place.”
***
The restaurant is small and Italian, tucked away on a side street I’ve walked past a hundred times without noticing. Red-checkered tablecloths. Candles in wine bottles. Frank Sinatra playing softly in the background.
“This is not what I expected,” I say as we slide into a corner booth.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere sleek. Expensive. Very Reid.”
Dominic snorts. “I’m not a Reid. Not really. I just share their DNA.”
“You came to the vow renewal.”
“Family obligation. My mother sent twelve texts.” He picks up the menu. “I showed up, stood in the back, and left before anyone could make small talk.”
“So you saw... everything.”
“I saw my brother get what he deserved.” He meets my eyes over the menu. “And I saw you handle it with more grace than he had any right to expect.”
The waiter arrives before I can respond, and we order - pasta, wine, garlic bread that Dominic insists is “life-changing.”
“Tell me something,” I say once the waiter leaves. “Why are you really doing this? The lawyer, the support, now dinner - what’s in it for you?”
“Does something have to be in it for me?”
“In my experience, yes.”
He’s quiet for a moment, turning his wine glass in his hands.
“I’ve spent my whole life watching Connor take things,” he says finally. “Opportunities, relationships, credit for things he didn’t earn. He has this way of making everything look easy - like success just falls into his lap. Like he deserves everything he has.”
“And you don’t think he deserves it?”
“I think he’s never worked for anything in his life. I think everything was handed to him - the business, the connections, the wife - and he still found a way to fuck it up.” Dominic looks up. “And I think you deserved better.”
“You barely know me.”
“I’ve known you for six years.”
“We’ve talked maybe ten times.”
“And every single time, I walked away thinking-” He stops. Shakes his head.
“Thinking what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
The candle flickers between us. In the dim light, his face is all shadows and sharp angles.
“I walked away thinking he didn’t deserve you,” Dominic says quietly. “That you were wasted on him. That if things were different - if you weren’t my brother’s wife-”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
The air between us shifts. Charges.
“Dominic...”
“I’m not saying this to complicate things. I know the timing is terrible. You just got divorced, you’re still processing, the last thing you need is-”
“Is what?”
“Is someone else wanting you.”
The words land like a physical blow.
Wanting you.
When was the last time anyone wanted me? Really wanted me, not as an accessory or a convenience or a stepping stone to something else?
“I should go,” I say, even though I don’t move.
“Probably.”
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Definitely.”
Neither of us stands.
The waiter returns with our pasta, breaking the spell. We eat in charged silence, trading small talk that feels like a thin cover over something deeper.
By the time the check comes, I’ve had two glasses of wine and entirely too many thoughts I shouldn’t be having about my ex-husband’s brother.
Dominic walks me to my car. The night air is cool, and I shiver slightly.
Without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
“You don’t have to-”
“You’re cold.”
It smells like him. Something woodsy, masculine, nothing like Connor’s designer cologne.
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything. The lawyer, the support, the...” I gesture vaguely. “All of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I want to.”
We’re standing too close. I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw, the way his gaze keeps dropping to my mouth.
“Elise.” His voice is rough. “I’m going to do something stupid if I don’t leave right now.”
“What kind of stupid?”
“The kind that involves kissing my brother’s ex-wife two hours after her divorce was finalized.”
My heart stutters.
“That would be stupid,” I agree.
“Very stupid.”
“Terrible timing.”
“The worst.”
He’s still not leaving.
And I’m still not telling him to go.
“Call me,” he says finally, stepping back with visible effort. “When you’re ready. When you’ve had time to process, to figure out what you want. I’ll be here.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
“Then I’ll still be here.” He opens my car door for me. “Goodnight, Elise.”
“Goodnight, Dominic.”
I drive home with his jacket still around my shoulders, his scent surrounding me, his words echoing in my head.
Someone else wanting you.
For the first time in six years, I let myself wonder what it might feel like to want someone back.