by Nicole Casey
This case had brought out something in us, something we weren’t prepared to face.
The realization that Angeline shared many similarities with Yvette had dredged up a lot of unsolicited reflection.
Angeline was hard and unflinching, just as Yvette appeared to be, with the brain to match my former lover’s.
Sometimes when I spoke with Angeline, I could see a glimmer of a hurt child beneath the surface, just as I would see her in Yvette.
But just like with Yvette, Angeline would block out any attempts I made to reach beyond her cool façade and talk to the wounded little girl inside.
“I’ll send it as soon as I get back to my desk,” I agreed, moving to join her at the coffee machine but as I neared her, she stepped away.
“Before you send off something ridiculous,” Yve called from the doorway. “Let me remind you that Mr. Sterling is a very busy man who doesn’t have time for trivial meetings. If your client wants to drag out this dog and pony show, that’s fine but know that Mr. Sterling will be billing her for wasted hours.”
I gaped at her, a laugh escaping my lips at the ridiculousness of the statement.
“He can’t do that!” I giggled. “It’s part of the proceedings. He doesn’t get paid for attending his own divorce mediations.”
“Oh no?” she replied, and I bristled at her tone.
“No!” I snapped. “Of course not!”
She leered at me.
“Tell that to Caitlyn Crawley, Roger Millstrom, and Eric Shumacker.”
I stared at her blankly.
“Who?” I demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Those are divorced men and women who have paid handsomely for wasting my clients’ time. They, along with others who I can’t name off the top of my head, have all been billed for punitive damages and lost wages associated with wasting the courts and our time. Inform Mrs. Sterling that it is in her best interest to make this go away quickly and quietly.”
Yvette retreated from the breakroom and I felt myself grow warm with anger.
She can’t be serious, I fumed, pouring another cup of acrid, old coffee from the pot. I have to look into that!
But something told me that she wasn’t lying.
Yvette is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If she says she collected on such a stupid idea, she likely did.
The knowledge made me furious.
Yvette was not going to pull any punches. It only made me more determined to win the case for Angeline.
I hurried back to my office and set my cup down on the desk.
There was no way that Ryerson Sterling was going to agree to the number we had developed.
I had tried to reason with Angeline but there was no point.
She was, if possible, more stubborn than Yvette.
If I went to her with the message which Yvette had just given me, there was no doubt that all hell would break loose but if I presented Yvette with the offer, I would be dealing with an entire other earful.
I had an obligation to tell Angeline that she was going to be penalized for drawing out the process, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy for it that day.
I found myself cursing Vern Harrison every day for allowing this to happen.
The senior partner could have found a way out of it for everyone, but the firm only saw dollar signs.
When this is all over and done with, I am taking a vacation.
I sighed and turned to my email, sending the proposal to Yvette, interoffice.
Vern poked his head through my slightly ajar doorway.
“How’s it going?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.
“You want the real answer or the PC one?”
“Sterling?” he asked, and I peered at him.
“Mostly,” I replied slowly. “What’s up?”
He remained in the doorway and I felt my ulcer moan as my subconscious sensed more trouble brewing.
“I just wanted to make a friendly suggestion,” Vern said slowly, and my eyes narrowed.
Beware the partner offering friendly suggestions as they are more likely direct orders.
“And that is?”
“Yvette is very good at her job. She has been here a few months longer than you, but she has a natural shark’s ability to smell blood in the water. I would bow down to her demands.”
“And I’m not as good because she had a few months on me? I should tell you that she and I are in the same graduating year,” I commented, trying to keep my tone neutral. “We went to NYU for our undergrad together. She graduated magna cum laude while I graduated summa cum laude.”
I loathed that my voice was raising an octave as I spoke.
“I am not disputing you are a great lawyer, Drave. I am saying that Yvette is colder than most. She will win at any cost. Bear that in mind when you go up against her.”
“And this has nothing to do with the firm siding with Ryerson in this divorce.”
Vern chuckled and shook his head.
“No matter which side wins, we still have plenty of plum accounts in our pockets. Ideally, of course, we would like to keep Mr. and Mrs. Sterling – “
“Voigt,” I corrected automatically. “Ms. Voigt.”
“Right, of course. But I think we both know that the way this is playing out, there is no way that both are going to walk away unscathed. I am just suggesting that you minimize the damage on your end.”
My jaw clenched, and I purposefully moved my eyes back to my computer screen.
Not only do my client and my opposing counsel think I’m second-rate, my boss does too.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, Drave,” Vern said. “It’s only advice.”
“Hey!” I called out as he turned away.
“Yes?”
“What if I end up on the winning end of this?”
Vern chuckled.
“Well that would be quite a feat,” he replied, pivoting to leave again but I stopped him.
“If I win this, I want to make senior partner. You’ll have to put my name in the ring.”
Vern lost his smile.
“That’s a little premature, isn’t it?”
“Why?” I demanded. “If Angeline Sterling is a loser and I can’t win against Yvette, what’s the harm in agreeing to it?”
I watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed over his droopy face.
Maybe you don’t think I’m that incompetent after all, I thought but as the words whirled through me, Vern nodded amiably, his beam returning.
“It’s a deal,” he said, striding across the room to shake my hand. “If you can break Ryerson Sterling and get Yvette to reach a settlement of your client’s, I will talk to Kilpatrick and Campbell about making you, senior partner.”
I accepted his outstretched palm and pumped it with much more confidence than I felt.
“I look forward to being your equal,” I told him, and he hooted with laughter.
He doesn’t think I can do it, I thought, a mild fury coursing through me. He’s chortling behind those glasses, I can see it in his eyes.
But I was going to have the last laugh.
Angeline and Yvette were going down.
I just had to figure out how to do it.
8
Yvette
I gaped at the email on my desk, my mouth almost touching the table as I read.
This cannot be right, I thought, shaking my head in disgust. He lied to me! All this time, he’s been lying to me!
My head was beginning to pound and I reached for the phone, dialing out the number I had already memorized.
“Ryerson Sterling’s office.”
“Mr. Sterling, please,” I ordered, my palms beginning to sweat as I recognized the gravity of what I was seeing.
“Who’s calling please?”
“Yvette Viera.”
“He is out of the office. May I take a message?”
“Is he available by cell today?” I demanded. I had to get him to the office immediately.
<
br /> “I believe he is.”
“I’ll try him there,” I replied. “Thanks, Anita.”
I replaced the receiver and dialed out again but before it could ring, there was a knock on my office door.
“Not now!”
Draven opened the door anyway and peeked in, his face ridiculously tanned.
“I said, not now!” I snapped.
“Happy new year!” he called happily as he entered.
There was something different about him, something that had nothing to do with the warm glow on his broad form.
“Happy new year. Get out. I’m busy,” I growled.
“I see you got my email,” Draven drawled, flopping into a chair and examining his nails.
I wondered where he had been over the Christmas holidays.
Probably concocting this insanity from Ryerson’s yacht with Angeline in Barbados. Well, I hope he enjoyed it because that’s the last time Angeline is ever going to see that boat unless she gets a job on the crew which she might well have to do by the time I’m finished with her. What a sneaky, underhanded witch. And Draven!
“You expect me to believe this?” I spat, gesturing at the screen.
Draven shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
“You can believe whatever you want,” he replied. “But I thought your eyes were good, Yve. It’s all right there in color no less; your boy is a philandering pig.”
The words said aloud caused me to shiver.
I could not imagine Ryerson Sterling touching a woman, not his wife, especially not after all the heart to heart talks we’d had over the past few months.
“Isn’t it interesting that Angeline never thought to bring this up until now and suddenly she has pictures and dates?”
“She wanted to keep this under wraps unless it was absolutely necessary to use.”
I laughed loudly.
“Your client, a woman who has spent the last three months dragging her estranged husband’s name through the mud, accusing him of hiding assets and being ‘emotionally unavailable’? She wanted to keep this under wraps? There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark, Drave.”
My eyes bored into him and I saw him shift slightly.
He’s lying.
I decided to call him out.
“Why is this coming out now?” I insisted. “Why didn’t she say something before if this is true?”
Draven sighed deeply as if he was pained by the question.
“Fine,” he relented. “She wanted to lay it out on the table, but I told her to wait. I told her…”
I folded my arms under my breasts and stared at him.
“You told her what?” I demanded.
“I told her that you were reasonable, no matter what your reputation. I felt sorry for your client. I didn’t see the need to bring something this scandalous to light.”
I still didn’t believe him.
“How magnanimous of you,” I purred, rising to walk around the side of the desk, leaning back to study his face pensively. “Why didn’t you do this months ago? We could have wrapped this up neatly and sent it on its way before Santa even left the Pole.”
Draven tried to hold my gaze, but he was not doing a good job.
He had never been any match for me in a staring contest.
“Bad timing on my part,” he replied simply, rising. Suddenly he didn’t seem so smug as he shuffled toward the door.
“The pictures are real, aren’t they, Draven?” I asked, and he whirled around.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he growled.
I had hit a nerve.
“I think you know exactly what it means,” I retorted. “If you’re knowingly admitting fake evidence into these proceedings, you will be disbarred.”
His face seemed to lose some of its color, but he spun back toward the door.
“I suggest you tell your client to accept our final offer because if this goes to a judge, I don’t need to tell you how much sympathy your client will garner.”
He stormed out and a queasy feeling tickled my stomach.
Suborning perjury? Draven would never do that, I thought but what other explanation did I have for what I was seeing?
It makes no sense that this would come out now. There is no way that Angeline would hold back, no matter what Draven says.
I had to get to the root of the pictures and talk to Ryerson before I put a billionaire in the poorhouse.
“That isn’t me,” he said flatly, and I groaned inwardly.
“It is you,” I sighed. “When were these taken, Ryerson? And why didn’t you tell me about her?”
He looked at me, his face a compilation of consternation and shock.
“That can’t be me!” he insisted, pressing his face to the photos. “I have never been in that room or with that woman. But that does look a lot like me, you’re right about that.”
A spark of hope lit my chest.
“Are you sure, Ryerson?” I asked gently, taking the picture from him. “You’re certain you never got drunk one night and ended up in a hotel room or – “
“I don’t drink,” he replied. “And I have never woken up without being able to recall the previous day’s events so that eliminates being drugged I would say.”
I nodded, exhaling slowly.
“Then these pictures are photoshopped,” I said, tossing the incriminating photo onto my desk and sitting back.
“Why?”
The question was so quiet and so plaintive, I almost missed it.
“Pardon?” I asked, raising my body to look at him. “Why what?”
He stared at me with a creased brow and shook his head uncomprehendingly.
“Why any of this?” he asked and for the first time, I heard raw emotion in his voice. “Why after twenty years is she not only doing this but doing it in such an underhanded, awful way?”
Sympathy for him filled me but I had no response for him.
Because she’s a selfish bitch, I thought. Because all she cares about is your money. Because marriages have less than a fifty/fifty chance of working out.
Naturally, I said none of those things and made a commiserating noise instead.
“I’m sorry, Rye,” I said tenderly. “I really am but sometimes these things work out for the best. I know you feel like you’ve wasted a lot of time – “
“No, I don’t,” he interrupted, his brows raising in surprise. “Of course I don’t!”
I was shocked into silence as I waited for him to finish.
“A marriage is never a waste of time. It is a journey, an adventure. It is having children and falling in love over and over again, if not with every morning you wake up together, at least with every anniversary.”
He grew quiet and I felt insurmountably sad for him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did not love your wife.”
“I do love my wife,” he said gruffly and suddenly he looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You remind me a lot of Angie.”
I had never been more insulted in my life, but I expertly hid my feelings, even though I tasted blood inside my mouth when I chomped down on my cheek.
“You are both stubborn, unafraid to take what you want. It was one of the first things I learned to admire about Angie. I had never met a woman like her. But you know what they say…”
I waited.
“…what draws you to a person is apt to split you apart.”
I chuckled softly.
“Too much of a good thing, I suppose,” I replied lightly.
He snorted.
“I am saying this as if I am without flaws,” he sighed. “Angie always said I was too easy going, too laid back.”
“I’m sure that you wouldn’t be where you are today without putting your foot down now and again,” I protested but suddenly as I looked at his aging face, I was reminded of someone and the realization made my heart skip a beat.
I always teased Draven about being
too lassies-faire, even though he had that infamous temper. I wonder if Ryerson has a temper too.
“It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside,” Ryerson continued as if he was reading my mind. “It comes out at the wrong time and disproportionately.”
I studied his face and then said something which shocked me.
“Have you talked to Angeline? Really talked to her? Or are you just going through this because you don’t want conflict and you think this is what she wants?”
It was not something I would recommend to a client. After all, it wasn’t my place to play marriage counselor.
He eyed me, and I could see he was considering my words.
A hard look crossed his face.
“The time for talking has passed,” he said shortly. “If she’s willing to go so far as to plant evidence of an affair, I don’t have any interest in having a rational discussion with her.”
But what about before? Before things began to snowball? Why did you just let her walk away without a fight?
I nodded, shoving the soft feelings from me.
My job wasn’t to question the way he handled his life.
My job was to ensure that Angeline didn’t make off with his fortune.
“I will authenticate these photographs but if what you’re saying is true, your only problem will be whether to press charges against her or not. This borderline on blackmail and perjury.”
Ryerson rose stiffly from his chair and I knew the meeting was coming to an end.
“Do what you have to do,” he said quietly. “Keep me posted.”
“Rye…”
He glanced over his shoulder as he reached for his coat.
“This doesn’t need to drag on forever. I can see it's taking its toll on you,” I said delicately. “Maybe we should consider a compromise instead of continuing this rampant tug-of-war.”
His thick eyebrows shot up and he stared at me in surprise.
“I would not have thought that you of all people would suggest that,” he replied slowly. “Maybe you’re not as much like Angeline as I thought.”
I hope not, I groaned. I am not angry and bitter. I wouldn’t put my ex through the ringer for no good reason…would I?
I loathed that I was questioning myself and I was miffed that Ryerson Sterling had started my self-doubt.
