Chapter 5
I moved through the workday with steady efficiency, clearing every task on my list by early afternoon.
At two o'clock, I took a short break and walked to a law firm two blocks from the office to meet Nathan Vincent, the lawyer Olivia had recommended.
He was younger than I had expected, but his questions were precise, his manner calm and professional.
He listened to my account without interruption, then he adjusted his glasses, his eyes sharp. "Ms. Shaw, the situation you are describing is more common than most people realize.
"He is insisting on splitting every expense and treating household labor like a billable service, while at the same time belittling you and attempting to control you.
"Taken together, these patterns can support a finding that the marriage has broken down. Do you have records of him insisting on the financial split?"
"I have the messages and the spreadsheet he sent me," I said.
"Good. Now walk me through the property and the car."
I laid out every detail, from the down payment to the renovation costs to the title registration.
Nathan took notes in a small leather notebook, his brow furrowing. "Since his parents provided the down payment and the house is in his name alone, the property will likely be treated as his separate asset.
"The renovation funds and the car your family purchased fall into a different category. Those are considered gifts or contributions made in contemplation of the marriage.
"To recover any of that in a divorce, you will need clear documentation. Do you have records of those payments?"
"I have the bank transfers and the renovation contract."
"That helps," Nathan nodded. "Here is the challenge. You have been married for a matter of days, and he is refusing to even discuss divorce.
"If we file now, a judge is unlikely to grant it on the first attempt. We should prepare for a process that may take some time.
"Keep collecting evidence that the relationship is truly over. Insults, humiliation, and financial coercion. Whether it comes from him or from his family, document it."
"I understand," I said. "Nathan, I want this resolved as quickly as possible. Is there any way to move things faster?"
He paused, considering the question. "If you can prove serious fault on his part, such as domestic violence, infidelity, or cohabitation with another person, and mediation fails, the court should grant the divorce.
"Alternatively, if you can show you have lived apart for two years due to irreconcilable differences. But—"
"He has not been violent, and I have no proof of infidelity," I said, shaking my head. "Waiting two years is out of the question."
"Then we may have to wait and see if he creates problems for himself. Something that gives us firmer grounds to proceed." Nathan's voice carried a weight that suggested he was not merely speculating.
I understood exactly what he meant. "I will gather everything I can. I am counting on you, Nathan."
"You have my word. I will do everything I can."
*****
After leaving the law firm, I checked the time and transferred Michael 2,914.12 dollars, with a note attached: [June living expenses.]
He accepted the transfer almost before the screen refreshed.
A moment later, his reply appeared. [You sent too much. The utility bills for this month haven't come in yet. We'll settle the difference once they arrive.]
I typed back, [All right.] Then I took screenshots of the transfer and the entire conversation and filed them away.
The moment I finished saving everything, my phone buzzed with a new email notification.
The sender was Sterling Holdings Human Resources. The subject line read: [Interview Invitation, Executive Assistant Position.]
My heart gave a single hard thump. I opened the message.
The email was formal and brief, informing me that my resume had cleared the initial screening and inviting me to the Sterling Holdings headquarters for a first-round interview this Wednesday at two in the afternoon.
I had made it through. This was only the opening move, but it was real. I drew a slow breath, then replied, confirming my attendance.
After that, I opened a shopping app. I needed a suit. Something sharp, something that would let me stand eye to eye with Charles, the famously unyielding man at the top of Sterling Holdings.
When the workday ended, I did not go straight home. I went to the department store downtown.
I found a tailored off-white blazer and matching trousers, a pair of low pointed-toe heels, and a silk blouse in a soft cream shade.
I had my hair trimmed and styled, and at the cosmetics counter, I chose products for a look that was polished but understated.
Standing before the mirror in the fitting room, I saw someone I recognized. My eyes were full of purpose. I had a calm, capable presence.
This was the real Rachel Shaw, not the wife Michael believed he needed to train up like a new hire, not the doormat Barbara assumed she could bend to her will.
I had been a chief administrative officer who ran operations, solved problems, and stood on my own two feet long before any of them entered my life.
I carried the shopping bags home. The moment I opened the front door, a thick wave of cigarette smoke hit me. The living room was hazy with it, the air heavy and stale.
Michael was sprawled on the couch with a cigarette burning between his fingers. The ashtray on the coffee table overflowed with crushed butts.
Barbara sat in the armchair with her arms folded, and Tina was curled at the end of the sofa, scrolling through her phone. None of them looked pleased.