The courthouse steps feel like a gauntlet, but I'm not walking them alone.
Patricia strides beside me, her Hermès briefcase swinging with the confidence of a woman who has a nuclear arsenal of evidence at her disposal. Nico is on my other side, her presence a silent promise that no matter what happens in that courtroom, I have people who have my back.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Wyatt.
You've got this. I love you so damn much.
I smile despite my nerves. He offered to come in, to sit in the gallery as moral support, but I told him no. I don't want him in the same room as Preston. I don't want Preston's toxicity anywhere near the clean, honest thing Wyatt and I have built together.
"Ready?" Patricia asks as we reach the courtroom doors.
I take a deep breath. "More than ready."
Inside, the courtroom has that hushed quality of a place where lives change. Preston is already seated with his lawyer, Martin Cross — a silver-haired man who looks like he charges bythe syllable. Preston's wearing Tom Ford, projecting power, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
Good. Let him be nervous.
His parents sit in the front row. They don't acknowledge me. I don't care.
We take our seats, and Patricia arranges her files with the precision of a surgeon laying out her instruments. She catches my eye and gives me the smallest nod.
She's about to destroy him.
The judge, a no-nonsense woman named Judith Kensington, calls the court to order. She's known for being tough but fair, and I can already tell she has no patience for theatrics.
"We're here for the matter of Darlington versus Darlington," Judge Kensington says. "Divorce proceedings with dispute over asset division due to allegations of marital misconduct. Ms. Taylor, you may proceed."
Patricia stands, and I swear the temperature in the room drops five degrees.
"Your Honor, my client entered into marriage with Mr. Darlington in good faith. What she discovered was a pattern of infidelity, manipulation, and financial misconduct that violated not only their marriage vows but also the prenuptial agreement's infidelity clause."
Preston's lawyer starts to rise. "Your Honor—"
"I'm not finished," Patricia says coolly. "We have evidence that Mr. Darlington engaged in multiple affairs throughout the marriage, including during periods when he claimed to be reconciling with my client. We also have evidence of blackmail and attempted business sabotage."
Judge Kensington looks at Preston's lawyer. "Mr. Cross, I assume you have a response?"
Martin Cross stands, adjusting his tie. "Your Honor, my client disputes these characterizations. Mr. Darlington admitsthe marriage had difficulties, but my colleague's claims are exaggerated and—"
"Then let's look at the evidence," Judge Kensington says. "Ms. Taylor?"
With that, Patricia unleashes hell.
I try to focus on her presentation, but my mind keeps drifting. The courtroom feels surreal, like I'm watching this happen to someone else. Six years of my life, reduced to evidence exhibits and legal arguments.
Patricia's voice cuts through the fog. "The prenuptial agreement's infidelity clause is mutual, notarized, and legally binding. If Mr. Darlington cheated during the marriage, my client would receive a substantial financial settlement and retain all assets purchased in her name during the marriage."
Preston's jaw tightens. His lawyer whispers something to him, but Preston just shakes his head.
I hear fragments after that. "Multiple affairs... hotel receipts... flight records... all dated during the marriage."
My hands are shaking. I clasp them together in my lap.
"Ms. Krystal, a marketing consultant from Miami..."
I remember finding those texts. The sick feeling in my stomach.
"The Plaza Hotel... Ms. Ashleigh..."
