“I keep wondering how all of this works with me filing for divorce.”
Shane’s expression softened. “That’s a really fair thing to be thinking about,” he said. “Especially right now.”
“Does everything happening slow it down? Or… complicate it?”
“In some ways, yes,” he said honestly. “In others, it actually gives you more protection.”
I looked up at him.
“I mean, obviously I don’t know what will happen. But from my experience… I have an idea,” he said. “The league investigation and the criminal side — if it goes that direction — are separate from family court. Different systems, different timelines. But they talk to each other in indirect ways.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the court isn’t going to ignore the fact that there are active allegations of abuse, intimidation, and coercive control,” he said. “Especially if there’s documentation, witnesses, or findings from an independent investigator.”
My shoulders sagged a little in relief.
“So what happens first?” I asked.
“You file,” he said. “As soon as you’re ready.”
“So, tonight?”
He smirked, thumbing my jaw. “Your attorney will likely request emergency or temporary orders right out of the gate — things like financial support, exclusive use of the marital home, no-contact provisions. Judges take those requests very seriously when safety is involved.”
“Would they… expedite it?” I asked.
“Not the entire divorce,” he said carefully. “Divorce is still divorce. But the protective pieces? Yes. Those can move fast. Days, sometimes.”
I swallowed. “And the prenup?”
His jaw tightened slightly, like it pissed him off that Nathan ever made me sign one. “Prenups aren’t untouchable,” he said. “If there’s evidence you signed under duress, emotional coercion, misinformation, or while being actively manipulated— especially if abuse can be established — then parts of it can be challenged.”
“Parts,” I repeated.
“Sometimes all of it,” he said. “Sometimes just the sections that leave one party vulnerable. It depends on how it was drafted and what can be proven. But courts don’t love agreements that were designed to trap someone.”
I felt something loosen in my chest.
“And financially?” I asked quietly. “I don’t want his money — but I also don’t want to be… stuck.”
“You won’t be,” Shane said without hesitation. “Temporary spousal support exists for exactly this reason. So someone can leave safely and get back on their feet without being punished for surviving.”
I closed my eyes for a second, the words settling in.
Leave safely.
Get back on my feet.
For the first time, my thoughts slipped past the fear and exhaustion and landed somewhere unexpected. I pictured choices, a schedule that belonged to me, going back to school if I wanted, taking a job without asking permission.
I imagined a life that didn’t require constant calculation or apology.
Freedom that wasn’t borrowed.
Freedom that wasmine.
The realization was almost dizzying, a small, bright thread woven through the dark chaos of the night.
