Chapter 2 - The Easiest PartitionCourtroom 4B smelled of floor wax, old paper law books, and the crushed dreams of a thousand broken couples.
Judge Harrison, a tired-looking man with silver hair and half-moon spectacles, didn't bother looking up as we filed in. He merely shuffled a stack of papers, his dry voice bouncing off the acoustic panels of the ceiling.
"Case number 24-CV-88931. In re the marriage of Ethan Vance and Olivia Vance. Counsel present?"
"Present, Your Honor," my attorney, Marcus Vance—no relation, thankfully, but the best shark in King County family law—said smoothly, rising to his feet.
Ethan’s high-priced corporate lawyer, a slick man named Sterling whose retainer alone could fund a small car, nodded briskly. "Present for the petitioner, Your Honor."
What followed was a masterclass in bureaucratic efficiency. For all of Ethan’s posturing, he had been shockingly eager to get this over with. Eager to sever all legal ties. Eager to strip away any claim I might have to his escalating salary and future stock options.
"The parties have reached a full and final settlement agreement regarding the division of marital assets," Judge Harrison droned, peering over his glasses at us. "Mr. Vance, you are relinquishing all rights to future corporate bonuses, current liquid holdings in joint accounts totaling one hundred and forty thousand dollars, and the primary residence in Bellevue. Is that correct?"
Ethan cleared his throat, his chest puffing out slightly under his tailored lapels. "Yes, Your Honor. That is correct."
"And Mrs. Vance," the judge turned his weary gaze toward me. "You understand that by signing this waiver, you are permanently walking away from any claims to Mr. Vance’s primary estate, future earnings, and active corporate holdings?"
I placed both hands gently on the wooden partition of the gallery, letting my heavy, eight-month belly serve as a visual exclamation point to my vulnerability.
"I understand completely, Your Honor," I said, my voice clear and unwavering. "I want nothing more to do with him."
Marcus slid the final document across the table. I picked up the heavy metal pen—engraved with my father’s initials—and signed my name in sharp, elegant cursive.
Ethan practically vibrated with barely contained triumph. He signed his own name with a flourish, his eyes darting toward Madison, who sat in the gallery watching with rapt, predatory glee. She was already mentally rearranging the furniture in our custom Bellevue home. She was already planning the society wedding announcements for the evening columns.
"The divorce is granted," Judge Harrison banged his gavel. A sharp, definitive crack that echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room. "Restoration of maiden name permitted upon request. Court is adjourned."
It took precisely twelve minutes.
Seven years of history, seven years of loyalty, seven years of building a man from the ground up, dissolved by a government stamp on recycled paper.
As we walked out into the corridor, Ethan stopped, turning back with a look of smug, condescending pity.
"I’m glad you didn't make a scene, Olivia," Ethan said, adjusting his cuffs. "I know this is hard for you. Being eight months pregnant and... well, unpartnered. If you ever need help with medical bills or something down the line, once things settle with Madison and me... well, my secretary can look over a formal request."
Madison looped her arm through his, resting her head against his shoulder. "We really do wish you the best, Liv. Truly. Don't let bitterness rob you of the joys of motherhood."
May you like
I stared at them—two people drowning in their own staggering ignorance, completely unaware that they were standing on a glass floor about to shatter.
"Keep your charity, Ethan," I said softly, stepping past them toward the elevators. "You’re going to need every penny you have left. And trust me... you're going to need it a lot sooner than you think."
