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CELIA

Two days after I discovered the affair, the receptionist took my name for my appointment with one of the divorce attorneys Megan had recommended. She had sent me three names before I got home Saturday night, and this one had the best reviews and could squeeze me in this afternoon.

A woman walked into the waiting room. “Ms. Walsh is ready for you now, Mrs. Cromwell.”

My knees were shaky as I stood. Although I’d spent Sunday coming to terms with the fact that my marriage as I knew it was over, being here somehow made the decision feel more real.

My lawyer’s office was at the end of a long hallway. The corner space had large windows overlooking Santa Monica Boulevard. Her assistant shut the door behind me.

“Please, sit,” Dana Walsh urged, gesturing toward the chairs in front of her desk.

I dropped onto the one nearest to me. “Thank you for meeting with me so quickly, Ms. Walsh.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She smiled at me. “And please call me Dana.”

“I hope you understand why I wish I didn’t need this appointment, Dana.” I set my phone on the desk, screen down. “But I found months of texts between my husband and his mistress, so I don’t really have much choice.”

“What you do with the information you found is entirely your call.” She pulled out a notebook and pen. “Some wives find they’re able to look past this kind of transgression. Do couples therapy.”

Shaking my head, I snorted. “No amount of therapy is going to help me forgive Harrison for what he’s done.”

“Then let’s figure out the best plan to maximize your settlement.” She wrote my name at the top of the page. “How long have you been married?”

“Nine years.”

“Did you sign a prenup?”

I pulled a folder out of my purse and slid it across to her. “Yes, here’s my copy.”

“I like clients who are organized. Makes my job easier.”

While she read through the agreement Catherine and Edward had insisted I sign the week before the wedding, I unlocked my phone and pulled up the photos I’d taken of the texts so she could look through them next.

She turned to the last page. “The agreement waives any claim to the winery and to the house. In place of that, you get one hundred thousand for each year of the marriage. There’s also an infidelity penalty of two hundred and fifty thousand if you can prove it. That’s one million, one hundred and fifty thousand.”

It had sounded generous when I was twenty-three and excited about getting married. “Yes, his parents wanted the winery to be protected.”

“Understandable.” Dana tapped the signature page. “A valid prenup supersedes California’s default split. Community property would be fifty-fifty of what was acquired during the marriage. We only try to throw this out if the number on the other side of it is better, but that fight would take much longer.”

My eyes widened. “What would we need to get it thrown out?”

“I see that you signed the day before the wedding. If they made any changes during the week prior, then they violated the seven-day rule. The state of California also requires that you have independent counsel, so if the attorney you used was really theirs, that would be an issue. Or if there were any hidden assets because full disclosure is required so you were aware of everything you were giving up any claim to by signing.”

I pressed my lips into a firm line as I thought about how Catherine and Edward had handled everything back then. “The timeline was tight, so it’s possible, and the family recommended the lawyer who advised me.”

“Then we’ll do some research to see which options we actually have.” She set the agreement aside and tilted her head toward my phone. “I can get my investigator on that along with obtaining proof of the affair.”

I showed her the photos of the messages I’d taken. “This won’t be enough?”

“The texts are a start, but they also present us with a potential problem. It would be better to have something he can’t call an invasion of privacy in court. If he’s using funds from a joint account to pay for anything related to the affair, you’ll be able to access statements. So he’ll also tail your husband to get some photos of him and Brie.”

“Unless I get a photo of my own,” I muttered.

Dana’s pen stopped. “I don’t recommend following Harrison around. My investigator will be much more discreet and won’t be tempted to do bodily harm when he gets the proof.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I tapped the screen of my phone. “But they’ve spent time together at the winery, and some of the dates are when I’ve been in the kitchen there.”

She quirked a brow. “In the kitchen?”