For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then my husband laughed.
And every person inside the courtroom turned toward me, waiting to see whether I would finally break.
Julian Vance stood beside his mistress with the confidence of a man who believed victory had already been signed and sealed.
Nora wore an elegant white designer dress, pretending innocence despite spending the last two years sharing my husband’s life, sleeping in my bed, charging luxury hotels to our accounts, and whispering into Julian’s ear that I was too broken to fight back.
Julian adjusted his expensive silk tie and smiled.
“The company… the mansion… the cars,” he said. “They’re mine now. You’ll be lucky if you can afford rent.”
A ripple of shocked whispers spread through the courtroom.
His attorney didn’t interrupt him.
He simply smiled.
On paper, Julian had already won.
Vance Medical Technologies was registered entirely under his name.
The family mansion belonged to him.
Every bank account had been emptied just three days before I officially filed for divorce.
