I paused in my notes. “Embarrassed?”
“I didn’t like the person he had become. Nasty, vindictive, underhanded.” Her voice dropped as if confessing a great sin. “I couldn’t stand for him to touch me anymore.”
“Did you know about his law firm? The kinds of cases he worked on?”
“He never talked about it, but I read the paper. I saw the kinds of people he represented.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t the Scott I had married. The truth is he stopped being that man years ago.”
“But you stayed.”
“I had nowhere to go. No money, no job, no experience. All my friends had drifted away from me except for Joanne. She kept in touch, but usually when Scott wasn’t around. I’m not sure who despised the other more.”
“Is that where you’re staying?”
“Yes.”
“So he told you the marriage was over. What, then?”
“He told me he owned the house and I had to leave. He handed me an envelope with a bank card and a new account with twenty thousand dollars in it. He said to get a lawyer and he would be sure I was ‘looked after.’”
“Looked after? What does that mean exactly?”
“He said I wasn’t entitled to much since I never worked or brought anything to the marriage, but he would give me enough to live on until I could find someone else to sponge off.” Her hands curled into fists on her legs. “He even had the audacity to say he’d recommend someone to me.”
I barked out a laugh. “I bet he would.”
“Years ago, he made me sign something that said I would never go after his company.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I can always dispute the document. Say it was signed under duress.”
“He also told me things have been tight lately and profits are down, but we would work something out.” She shifted in her chair. “Then he made me pack a bag, and he drove me to a hotel. He said it was paid for a week, and after that, I was on my own. I called Joanne, and she came and got me right away.”
I snorted and set down the notepad. “Okay, I am going to give it to you straight. First off, he is full of shit. You are entitled to your share of the marital wealth. You did bring something to the table. You helped put him through school, and you basically worked for free for years. As for profits, he’s trying to scam you, Fiona. He’s going to downplay everything to make sure you get as little as possible. His offer to send you to a lawyer would be some underhanded buddy of his who would help Scott screw you over.” I ran a hand over my face. “He is such a piece of trash. I’m going to enjoy going after him. I’ll drain him of everything. He’ll be lucky to have a firm when I’m done.”
“This isn’t about the money, Hal.”
“What is it about, then, Fiona? Tell me what you want.”
She shook her head, sadness filling her eyes. “He took away ten years of my life. He made me promises and broke them. Every single one. I didn’t get to go to school. I didn’t get to have children. I didn’t get a husband who would love me and support me for the rest of my life. He stole my independence, my spirit, and my trust. And the worst part is, I let him.” She met my gaze, tears swimming in her eyes, her fingers clenching and unclenching on her lap. “He made me into nothing. He stole my happily ever after, Hal. He owes me for all that.”
An odd feeling rippled through my chest at her words. The sight of her tears did something to me—something I’d never experienced before. The need to be the one to fix this for her was vital.
It had to be me. I had to do this for her. I leaned forward, my hand lifting, the urge to wipe away her tears strong. Surprised at my reaction, I stopped and instead held out a box of tissues. But observing her distress and the way her fists clenched and unclenched on her lap when she was done, I could no longer hold back.
I covered her restless hands with mine. They were cold and shaking. I wrapped them into my grasp and squeezed, wanting, at the very least, to offer her support.
“You, Fiona, are not nothing. And for what he stole? He will pay. I promise you that.”
Her voice shook as she tried to control her emotions.
“How?”
I rubbed her hands, trying to warm them. To give her a small measure of comfort.
“Leave it to me. If you trust me, I can make sure he pays. But you have to follow my lead. Allow me to do what I have to do. Be prepared to fight.” I paused. “It could get ugly when he realizes the one thing he banked on—you simply rolling over and accepting this, accepting everything he says as the truth and taking the scraps he was willing to offer—isn’t going to happen. When he finds out who your lawyer is, all bets are off. Are you prepared for that?”
She let out a long, shuddering sigh. Her eyes were fixed on our clasped hands, and I let her think. I knew she was scared and nervous, but if she wasn’t willing to face what might happen, we were doomed.
“Don’t believe him, Fiona. You are strong. He’s hoping you won’t fight. But you came to me. You braved my anger to get what you wanted. That alone proves how strong you are. Show him how wrong he was. Fight him back.”
She lifted her eyes, determination shining through.
“Yes, Hal, we fight. Whatever you need.”
“Good, Fiona, that’s good.”
“Fee.”
I frowned. “I’m not asking you for a retainer. We can discuss all the expenses and come to an understanding we’re both comfortable with. I don’t gouge my clients.”
She giggled, the sound unexpected in the office.
“You find that funny?”
“No,” she said, biting her lip to stop laughing again. “I wasn’t talking about paying your fee. My parents, my friends, they always called me Fee. I liked it better than Fiona. Scott thought it was silly and called me Fiona. I want to go back to the name I liked. I want to go back to being the person I liked.”
I joined in her laughter at my misunderstanding and nodded in agreement at her decision. It was a small step to reclaiming her independence again.
“Fee, it is.”
Fee sat in the armchair again as I made lists of what I needed. Documents I had to have, copies of bank statements, taxes—hundreds of pieces of information I would need to make a case.
“How will I get them?” she asked when I sat with her again.
“I can subpoena them. I’d like to get a look at the bank statements, though. You say he cut off all access to your old bank account?”
“Yes.” She paused. “But I had online banking, and the password still works. I don’t think he realized I had that access. And I have a spare key. He doesn’t know I have it—I had a duplicate made once when I accidentally locked myself out and he had to come home early to let me in. He lectured me about being so careless and interrupting his day. I kept it on a different keychain in my purse after that so it wouldn’t happen again. I know he keeps files in his office at the house.”
“Okay, I need you to sign in to the bank account and get as many statements as you can. That can start the ball rolling.” I paused. “There must be things in the house you want—personal things?”