Her attorney was waiting, and no doubt he would have news about the case and whatever fresh hell her ex-wife had manufactured this week. Astoria gathered her laptop and headed for the door, pulling her shoulders back and down. Whatever it was, she’d handle it like always.
Gerald Bracks was already seated when she arrived, his leather briefcase open on the floor beside him and a manila folder resting on his knee. He stood as she entered, buttoning his suit jacket with the fluid ease of a man who’d been doing it for forty years.
“Astoria.” He extended his hand. “You look well.”
She didn’t, and they both knew it. But Gerald was old-school, the kind of attorney who believed in courtesies even when they were lies. She shook his hand and gestured for him to sit.
“What’s the damage this time?” she asked, settling into her chair behind the desk.
“Valerie has new representation.”
Astoria’s fingers stilled on her laptop. “Already? It’s only been three weeks since she fired Alexandria Pierce.”
“She moves fast when she’s motivated.” Gerald opened his folder. “Hartwell and Associates. Rachel Hartwell is the lead counsel.”
The name carried weight. Astoria knew Rachel Hartwell by reputation: a senior partner with twenty-five years in family law, ethical but formidable. She was the kind of attorneyjudges respected and opposing counsel dreaded. And she was a significant upgrade from Valerie’s previous representation.
“There’s a second chair,” Gerald continued. “Miller Scott, a mid-level associate with six years at the firm. She’s younger, but she’s already built an impressive track record. Won a significant case last year protecting an abuse survivor from a wealthy ex-husband. The press loved her.”
Astoria pulled up her browser and typed in the firm, letting Gerald talk while she navigated to the staff page. Rachel Hartwell’s photo showed a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair, the sort of face that would make a jury feel safe.
She clicked on Miller Scott’s profile next.
The photo caught her off guard. Miller was beautiful in an unguarded way that seemed almost accidental, her smile genuine and warm, the kind of expression you couldn’t fake for a headshot. It was nothing like Astoria’s own corporate photos, strategically composed to project exactly the right image.
Something flickered in her chest so quickly that she couldn’t quite hold onto it to name.
It’s just stress, she reasoned. Just six months of this endless nightmare wearing her down.
“—ethical practice, strong client relationships,” Gerald was saying. “Rachel Hartwell doesn’t play dirty, but she doesn’t need to. She wins on preparation and credibility.”
Astoria scrolled through Miller Scott’s case history: pro bono work with domestic violence survivors and a quote in a legal journal about the importance of believing victims. Compassionate and principled, exactly the kind of attorney who would take one look at Valerie’s performance and see a wounded woman fleeing a loveless, abusive marriage.
“And Miller Scott?”
“A wild card. She’s good, really good, but she’s not the lead counsel. Rachel will be making all the strategic decisions.” Gerald shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “My read on the situation is that Valerie hired them for credibility. Hartwell & Associates has a reputation for integrity, so it makes her look like the reasonable party.”
Of course it did. Valerie had always been strategic about appearances.
“The first mediation is scheduled for Tuesday, March twenty-sixth,” Gerald continued. “Standard procedure with a professional mediator at a neutral location.”
Astoria shifted in her seat. She had five days to prepare to sit across a table from her ex-wife and two attorneys who would believe every lie Valerie told them and look at Astoria and see exactly what Valerie wanted them to see: the ice queen villain.
She looked at Miller Scott’s photo again, the woman who had built her career on protecting people from monsters. And she would think Astoria was one.
“Strategy,” Astoria said, closing her laptop harder than necessary. “What’s ours?”
“Same as it’s been. We document the truth, stay professional, and don’t engage with Valerie’s performance.” Gerald’s voice was calm and measured, probably the same tone he used with all his clients. “The evidence is on your side, Astoria. We just have to be patient and let the truth come out.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d been patient for six months while Valerie poisoned the narrative and while business presses speculated about what kind of woman could drive her wife to such desperate measures.
“Fine,” she said. “Send me everything you have on both of them, anything that might indicate their approach.”
Gerald nodded and packed. “I’ll have it for you by the end of the day.” After he finished packing his briefcase, he lookedat her. “Try to get some rest before Tuesday. You’ll want to be sharp.”
“I’m always sharp.”
He didn’t argue, just gave her a small nod and left.
