She left the courtroom before anyone could ask her anything else and she had to maintain her facade for another second. The hallway was crowded with the afternoon’s traffic, but Astoria moved through it all without seeing any of it.
She needed to breathe, but the hallway offered no relief.
Astoria had hoped for some quiet, some space, just a moment where she wasn’t performing for anyone. Instead, she found herself navigating through clusters of attorneys and clients, their conversations blurring into white noise around her. A woman in a cheap blazer glanced up as Astoria passed,recognition flickering across her face before she leaned toward her companion and whispered something.
The Shepry divorce. That’s what she was now: a headline, a cautionary tale, a piece of gossip to share. She was stripped of her personhood.
Astoria kept walking, her heels clicking against the marble floor with a steadiness she didn’t feel. The restrooms were at the end of the corridor, past the vending machines and the alcove where people made phone calls they didn’t want overheard. She just needed to splash some cold water on her face and get sixty seconds of solitude. Then she could go back in there and sit through closing arguments and pretend like none of this was slowly killing her.
She was almost to the alcove when she heard the voice.
Valerie’s voice, sharp beneath its measured modulation, carried from around the corner. Astoria’s feet slowed before her mind caught up, some instinct that’d been honed telling her to stop, listen, and prepare for what was coming.
“—told you, I have the information. One of my contacts confirmed it months ago.” Valerie’s tone was insistent, the particular cadence she used when she was trying to bend someone to her will. “Astoria has offshore accounts and hidden assets she never disclosed. If we raise it now in closing arguments, it puts her on the defensive. It changes the entire trajectory of?—”
“Valerie.” Rachel’s voice cut through, calm and firm. “We can’t raise claims we can’t substantiate. Do you have documentation? Bank statements, transfer records, anything concrete?”
“I’ll get the documentation, but if we plant the seed now?—”
“That’s not how this works.”
Astoria pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs. Valerie’s words landed like blows,each one a lie so brazen it took her breath away. There were no offshore accounts or hidden assets. Every dollar Astoria had ever earned was traced, documented, and accounted for in meticulous detail because she was someone who followed the rules and built her empire on transparency and trust.
And Valerie knew that. Yet she was still trying to convince her attorneys to present fabricated evidence to a judge.
This was how it always worked with Valerie. She spun stories out of nothing, planted seeds of doubt, and rewrote reality until everyone around her believed her version of events. She’d done it to Astoria, and now she was doing it to the court.
“The documents we received in discovery were thorough.” Miller Scott’s tone was measured and professional, but had an undercurrent of something Astoria couldn’t quite identify. “I personally reviewed every financial record, and there’s no indication of undisclosed accounts, offshore or otherwise.”
“Then she missed something.” Valerie’s voice hardened. “Or she hid it well enough that?—”
“I didn’t miss anything.”
The words landed with quiet certainty and competence, no defensiveness or hedging.
Astoria’s fingers pressed against the cool marble wall. She should leave. She shouldn’t be standing here eavesdropping on the opposing counsel’s private conversation. But she couldn’t make herself tear away from the impossible thing unfolding around the corner.
“Valerie,” Rachel said, and there was a warning note in her tone now. “I understand you want to pursue every possible avenue. But presenting unsubstantiated claims would be problematic—for the case and for our credibility with the judge. If you can provide documentation, we'll absolutely revisit this. But I won't raise accusations I can't support.”
“This is exactly what she does.” Valerie's voice pitched higher. “She hides things. She controls the narrative. She makes herself look perfect while I?—”
“The evidence doesn't support that claim.” Miller again, still calm and steady. “What we have shows complete financial transparency on her part. If there are hidden accounts, we need proof before we can allege it. Otherwise, we're the ones making unsupported accusations.”
Silence stretched for a long moment. Astoria could picture Valerie's face—the flash of fury quickly masked, the calculation behind her eyes as she assessed whether to push harder or retreat and try again later.
“Fine.” The word came out clipped. “We’ll table it. For now.”
“If you obtain documentation—” Rachel began.
“I said fine.”
She heard footsteps approaching, and Astoria forced herself to round the corner toward the restrooms as if she’d just arrived, as if she hadn’t been frozen against the wall with her heart in her throat. She kept her gaze forward, and she didn’t look at the three women standing in the alcove as she passed.
She felt their eyes on her, anyway, and the sudden silence as they registered her presence.
The restroom door was heavy, and Astoria pushed through it with more force than necessary. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed the same relentless drone as the courtroom, but at least she was alone. At least no one could see her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the sink.
She turned on the tap and cupped her palms beneath the stream, letting it pool before splashing the cool water against her face. The shock of it helped a little.
