Chapter 5
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of people yelling.
It was 7:30 AM.
I opened my bedroom door. Michael and Margaret were shouting at each other.
"Mom, can you stop stirring things up right now?" Michael snapped.
"How am I stirring things up? I'm grabbing something." Margaret was clutching a bag, her face flushed red.
It was my bag, the one I'd left on the couch last night.
"Are you going through my bag?" My voice made both of them turn around.
Margaret's hand trembled, and the bag slipped from her grasp, spilling its contents all over the floor: my wallet, lipstick, power bank, and a black notebook.
The notebook landed right at Michael's feet.
Michael bent down, picked it up, and opened it. His expression instantly shifted. "A lawyer's license?"
I walked over and snatched the license back from his hand. The cover was deep navy blue, with gold letters stamped across it: State Bar License.
It contained my information: [Name: Emily Carter. Law Firm: Capitavia Legal Partners. Licensed Attorney. Issued: June 2015].
"You're a lawyer?" Michael said, his voice trembling.
I didn't say a word and slipped the license back into my bag.
His mom finally realized what was going on and pointed her finger right in my face. "You're a lawyer? Why didn't you say so sooner? You lied to us."
"What did I lie about?" I lifted my gaze to meet hers. "When did I ever say I wasn't a lawyer?"
His mom was stunned.
Over the past three years, she had never bothered to ask what I actually do.
The only thing she ever asked was, "Do you have a job?"
I said, "Not at the moment."
That was true. I was on leave.
But she assumed I was jobless, useless, and a total loser.
Michael stared at me, the panic in his eyes growing more obvious. "Have you been lying to me all this time?"
"Lying about what? If you wanted to know I was a lawyer, why didn't you ask?"
I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
"Stop right there." Michael stepped in front of me, blocking my way. "You need to come clean today. Are you really a lawyer? What have you been doing these past three years?"
I stared at him.
This guy practically begged me to marry him three years ago.
He swore up and down, "Emily, I'll love you and give you a real home."
In our first year together, he complained that I was too busy with work and pushed me to quit my job and stay home.
Then in the second year, he got bored with me being at home and said I was a leech.
By the third year, he'd already found himself a mistress. He said it was because I couldn't have kids, wasn't gentle enough, and never cared about him.
At this moment, he asked if I was a lawyer.
"Yes, I'm a lawyer specializing in divorce cases," I said, speaking each word clearly. "Over the past three years, I've handled 87 cases, and 63 of them were about cheating. My win rate? Ninety-eight percent."
Michael's face drained of all color. "So you planned this from the start? Was the whole marriage a setup for divorce?"
I almost laughed at how twisted his logic was. "Michael, you're the one who cheated, you're the one who got your mistress pregnant, and you're the one pushing for divorce. I'm playing along with you."
"Playing along?" He let out a cold, bitter laugh. "You did all this on purpose. You pretended to be a housewife, pretended you didn't have a job, and made me believe you couldn't live without me.
"So what now? Dropping the act and planning to sue me?"
I didn't bother answering. I glanced at the time. It was 8:15 AM. "I'm heading out. Please move."
"Where are you going?"
"The courthouse." Those two words landed like bombs.
Michael's face twisted before he finally gritted his teeth and spat, "If you dare sue me, I'll tell the whole world what kind of manipulative bitch you really are."
"Whatever." I shoved him aside and headed for the door.
Behind me, Margaret burst into tears. "Michael, what are we going to do if she sues us? What about all that money?"
"Mom, don't panic. She can't win. I'll hire the best lawyer out there," Michael said, trying to sound tough. But his voice was bluffing, barely holding it together.
I slipped on my shoes, opened the door, and shot them a look over my shoulder. "Michael, guess who's the best divorce lawyer in Capitavia?"
He stood there, speechless.
I smiled. "That would be me."
The moment the door closed behind me, the sound of something smashing echoed from inside.
In the elevator, I took out my phone and shot Benjamin a quick text: [I'll be there for the Johnson Group case. See you at 10.]
He replied instantly: [Got it, Ms. Carter.]
The elevator doors slid open, and Monica, my neighbor, was walking into the lobby as I stepped out. "Oh, Emily, up so early?"
Her eyes roamed over me, practically X-raying me.
"Yeah, got some things to take care of," I replied.
"I heard something happened at your place..." Monica started, her voice trailing off.
"Heard what?"
"I heard your husband's got a mistress, and he even brought the baby home?" Monica whispered, her eyes sparkling with gossip.
I stopped in my tracks and looked at her. "It's not that. He actually moved his side chick in. She's wearing my pajamas, sleeping in my bed, and eating my food."
Monica's eyes went wide. "That's way too much."
"Tell me about it." I gave a sly smile. "So I'm suing him. He'll walk away empty-handed."
"That's the spirit. You should absolutely sue him!" Monica cheered so loudly the whole lobby could hear. "Don't worry. I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of trash Michael really is."
I nodded and walked out of the lobby.
I could hear Monica's voice echoing behind me. "Did you hear? Michael on the 17th floor has a mistress, and he even brought the baby home."
I got into a cab and told the driver, "Coralyn Courthouse."
My phone buzzed.
Jessica texted: [Are you here yet? I'm waiting at the entrance.]
I replied: [I'll be there in ten minutes.]
Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Forty-two hours left.
But there was one thing I needed to do first: win this lawsuit and make sure everyone knows exactly who I am.