The lawyer II
731 Words
Back at my desk I spent the afternoon trying to focus on work and mostly failing. Tuesday passed without incident, while wednesday arrived and with it my consultation with Diana Reeves.
Her office was in Midtown, sixteenth floor, all clean lines and quiet authority. She was in her late forties with natural gray streaks in her dark hair and the kind of calm focused energy that made you believe she’d seen everything and nothing surprised her anymore.
She listened to my entire story without interrupting once. The birthday party. The photos. Ethan throwing me out. The email about the joint accounts and the house.
When I finished she was quiet for exactly five seconds.
“First things first,” she said. “You have more rights than he’s implying. Significantly more.”
Something unknotted in my chest. “Really?”
“New York is an equitable distribution state. That means marital assets are divided fairly, not necessarily equally, but fairly. The house, the joint accounts, any investments made during the marriage, all of that is subject to division regardless of who caused the divorce.”
“He’ll argue I cheated.”
“He can argue whatever he wants. Adultery in New York can affect certain aspects of the settlement, but it doesn’t automatically entitle him to everything.” She leaned forward slightly. “More importantly, you’re telling me you didn’t actually commit adultery.”
“I didn’t. The photos were faked. I have a forensic analyst working on proving it.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Tell me more about that.”
I told her everything about Marcus, the deepfake theory, the unknown text after my dinner with Adrian. She listened with the same focused stillness, occasionally making notes on the legal pad in front of her.
“This changes things considerably,” she said when I finished. “If we can establish that the photos were fabricated, the entire basis for the divorce narrative shifts. You weren’t the guilty party. You were the victim of a deliberate campaign to destroy your marriage.”
“Can we prove that in court?”
“That depends on what your analyst finds. But even the suggestion of manipulation could be enough to reframe the settlement negotiations entirely.” She set her pen down. “I want to take your case, Ivy. And I want you to let me handle all communication with Ethan’s lawyer from this point forward. No more responding to his emails directly. No more contact with him at all.”
“He said the same thing.”
“Good. Then you’re already on the same page about the only thing you agree on.” She almost smiled. “I’m going to need everything. Every document, every financial record you can access, all communication from Ethan since the separation. Can you get me all of that?”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do it.” She stood, extending her hand. “I don’t lose cases like this, Ivy. People who lie to destroy someone else’s life tend to leave evidence behind. We just have to find it.”
I shook her hand and walked out of her office feeling something I hadn’t felt in weeks.
Like maybe I actually had a fighting chance. The feeling lasted exactly until I got downstairs and checked my phone.
Three missed calls from my mother.
My heart hammered. She hadn’t called me since the morning after the party when she’d told me never to call again. Three calls in one afternoon meant something had happened.
I called back with my hand trembling.
She answered immediately. “Ivy.”
Nothing else came to my head for a moment.
“Mom?” I answered after a brief pause.
“I need to see you.” Her voice was strange and tighter than usual, like she was holding something back. “Can you come to the house tomorrow evening?”
“Why? What happened?”
“Just come. Please.”
She hung up before I could ask anything else.
I stood on the Midtown sidewalk in the cold, my phone pressed against my chest, trying to figure out what had changed. What had shifted enough to make my mother call three times and ask me to come home after weeks of silence.
Something had happened. Something significant.
And knowing my life lately, it could go either way.
- Writer
