Page 92 of Tailored for You

“Considering this has to do with my family, I think we’ll stay.” Enzo pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit, then unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat next to me.

The door opened, and Rafael walked in. “Sorry, we’re late. Did you start without us?”

Behind him walked a tall woman, her hair slicked back in a low ponytail, wearing a red power suit that fit her to perfection. She wore big, black-rimmed glasses and dark lipstick that shouldn’t have worked with the red suit, but she pulled it off expertly.

I knew her. Antonia Mancini. She was a high-powered family lawyer, known for winning big for her clients if they were in the right tax bracket. She’d partnered with the Feds recently to take down a pedophile ring in California a few months back.

And when I came to her office years ago, she’d told me no. Not only because she thought I couldn’t afford her, which was true, but also because she knew Charles and his cronies, who would try to drag out our divorce for as long as possible, and she didn’t have time for it.

She kindly gave me multiple referrals she thought would get the job done without costing as much, and it saved me in the end. Antonia was right that Charles and his lawyers would prolong our divorce until I couldn’t afford it anymore. Luckily, Minnie swooped in and helped me on that front.

She looked past me to the two lawyers. “Hello, boys, did you try to start without me?” Her smile was sharp, and her tone was condescending.

Both men stood up, sputtering.

“Aw, it’s okay. But let’s not waste any more time.”

She pulled out folders, flipping them open and pushing them down the table.

“I’ve gone over the divorce agreement and custody arrangement,” Antonia said, taking out more files.

I tried to lean toward the folders to get a peek, but they were too far away. Each man looked at the array of papers, passed them to one another, then to Charles, with Apple looking over his shoulder.

“I’ve also had the opportunity to look at the stipulations of Charles Clearwart Junior’s trust fund and found several violations.” She tapped a finger on a paper. “ As you can see, the evidence is damning. That morality clause is ambiguous at best, but there are several other clauses you’ve violated, right, Charles?” Antonia tilted her head, reminding me of a leopard preparing to pounce on her prey.

“These are forged,” Charles said, throwing down the papers. They scattered, a few flying my way, landing just within my reach.

I took one step, grabbed some of the papers, and scanned them. It took a minute to fully comprehend what was going on.

Charles was snorting a white substance off what appeared to be an exotic dancer’s behind. Another was his throwing cash onto a large group of people while holding a bottle of liquor in his hands.

On and on the pictures went—Charles doing what I’d consider slightly illegal, all of it compromising.

He was always a partier, needing to be at the newest club openings, spending the most money. Charles was of the mind that being seen in the right places would help him make business connections, when really it was an excuse to justify his behavior.

Apple picked up a picture, then moved to another. She rolled her eyes, like the scenes of Charles with women didn’t faze her in the slightest.

I didn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, but even those pictures had to strike a chord with her.

If Minnie knew the extent of Charles’ actions, she would be devastated and embarrassed.

I finally found my voice, throwing the paper on the table.

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” I sighed.

Before, when I faced Charles, it was him and his army versus me, and sometimes my lawyer. But I had my own army behind me now.

And I felt powerful. Like Charles could throw anything at me and it wouldn’t sick. I was Teflon.

“We’ll buy these off you. How much? For these and any copies you have?” one of Charles’ lawyers asked.

Antonia let out a short, derisive noise that could’ve been considered a laugh.

“Not for sale. If you think this is all we have, then you don’t know your client very well,” Antonia said. “Let this be a warning. Harass my client about her child, bring up pathetic and thinly veiled threats about the decree and custody, and you will have a blood bath.”

She leaned over the table. I was thankful I wasn’t at the end of her glare. “I will bring this before a court, a jury of Serena’s peers, and watch as I tell them about your pathetic, philandering client who only remembers he has a child when it’s convenient for him. I’ll bring up the way he raked her over hot coals when she wanted to leave after he publicly embarrassed her and splashed himself all over Page Six while she was giving birth to their child alone. Every bit of information about his past that you don’t want anyone to see, I will parade around and make you a laughing stock for letting this get so far. Try me, Henry. Please. I haven’t had fun in months.”

She put her laptop back in her bag and snapped it shut.