Chapter 4
That day, Vesper posted on Instagram: a photo of the two of them holding hands, their shadows stretched long and merged under the streetlight, impossible to separate.
Her caption was just three words: "I finally got him!"
As for Cassian's Instagram, the only post about Vesper was the one he made the night Vesper insisted he make it official.
*****
He didn't come to bed that night.
The next morning, Vesper opened her bedroom door and saw that Cassian was already gone for work.
He'd left breakfast on the table, but when she glanced at the gloomy sky outside, her stomach twisted; she couldn't even think about eating.
She couldn't wait another second.
She grabbed her phone and called the most famous divorce lawyer in Thornfield, Dorian Ashworth.
Half an hour later, she was on the top floor of the International Trade Center.
Dorian's office had a sweeping view of the whole CBD.
The glass walls kept the city's chaos outside, leaving behind a chill, almost icy sense of order.
At just twenty-eight, this young lawyer had never lost a case in four years.
Rumor had it he was the sharpest blade in the legal world.
When Vesper walked in, Dorian was on the phone, his voice calm but absolutely uncompromising.
"Custody goes to the other party. Assets split fifty-fifty. No mediation."
He hung up and looked at Vesper, his eyes sharp as a hawk.
"Ms. Sterne? Please, have a seat," Dorian said.
Without any small talk, Vesper slid the paperwork she'd already prepared across the table: her ID, marriage document, and property deed.
"I want a divorce," she said, her voice quiet but resolute, like she was putting everything on the line.
"I don't want anything, the house, the savings, the car. let him have it all. I just want to get out as fast as possible," she added.
Dorian paused as he flipped through the documents.
He looked up, his eyes—always slightly lifted at the corners—showing a flicker of curiosity before settling back into his usual professional composure.
"What's your reason?" he asked.
"I can't live like this anymore," Vesper replied.
"Any legal grounds? Cheating, abuse, gambling, drugs?" Dorian asked.
"Nope," Vesper said.
"Have you been separated for two years?" Dorian asked.
"No. And to be honest...he was just in the next room last night," Vesper replied.
Dorian closed the folder and leaned back in his leather chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.
"Ms. Sterne, do you want it straight?" he said.
"Go ahead," Vesper replied.
"If there's no legal fault, no cheating, abuse, or anything like that, and you two haven't been living apart, filing for divorce on your own?"Dorian said.
"The court will almost always say no the first time. They're basically giving you both a chance to patch things up," he added.
He paused, then laid out a cold, clinical timeline. "Once the ruling takes effect, you'll have to wait six months before you can file again.
"And only if you can prove you've been living apart for a full year due to irreconcilable differences on the second filing, will the court actually grant the divorce," he detailed.
Vesper's heart sank.
"So...even if things go well, it'll still take a year and a half?" she murmured. "And if not, it's normal for it to drag on for two years?"
"That's right," Dorian said, his eyes lingering on her pale face.
"You want it done fast, but in the legal world, speed comes at a price," he added.
"Either you've got undeniable proof he cheated, or a medical report showing he hurt you. Otherwise, time is the only thing you'll pay," he suggested.
Vesper lowered her gaze, her nails digging deep into her palm.
A year and a half to two years.
She was only twenty-six.
Was she really going to spend over seven hundred days trapped in a marriage that was already dead in name only?
But what proof did she have?
There wasn't any solid proof that Cassian and Liora had crossed the line.
"I... I really don't want anything. Isn't that enough?" Vesper's voice was barely above a whisper, her throat tight with desperation.
"Splitting up your assets is your choice, but that doesn't change the legal view that your marriage hasn't actually fallen apart," Dorian said, his voice steady but his words cut deep.
"The judge will see a wife willing to leave with nothing and a husband who's done nothing wrong, and wonder how that could mean the marriage is broken. To them, it just looks like you're throwing a tantrum," he explained.
Vesper fell silent.
The sunlight outside was blinding, but it couldn't warm the cold inside her.
She'd thought that if she was resolute enough, she could cut the tangled threads and put an end to everything.
But the web of law was more intricate and unyielding than she'd ever imagined.
"Is there really no other way?" Vesper looked up, a last glimmer of hope in her eyes.
Dorian's eyes took on a more conflicted look as he watched her.
"Unless you can present new circumstances or reasons," he said. "Otherwise, this is the longest process you'll have to endure."
He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table to her.
The card was minimalist, and the name "Dorian Ashworth" embossed in gold caught the light with a cold gleam.
"Once you've made up your mind, you can contact me anytime," he said.
"If you decide to go down this long road, at least let me help you keep your losses to a minimum," he added.
Vesper held the business card; her fingertips felt icy.
She stood up, nodding almost mechanically. "Thank you, Mr. Ashworth."
By the time she stepped out of the law firm, night had already fallen.
It was an early winter evening, and the wind carried a biting chill.
Vesper stood at the curb, watching the endless stream of cars, and all of a sudden, she realized she had no idea where to go.
Her phone rang. It was her mom.