I watched her for a moment. Long lashes rested on her cheeks, and her mouth was open, her full lips pursed in sleep. Her sweater hung off her frame, and I could see the weariness on her face. She made an odd clicking noise in her throat as she slept—the sound a steady beat to her breathing. It was somehow endearing. The shadows under her eyes were faint blue—like sky peeking out from under a cloud. Her fingernails were chewed, the skin around the cuticles rough and raw. Even in repose, her hands were clenched. If I had any doubts, they dissipated as I studied her. She was in emotional turmoil. I felt an odd stirring within my chest. I wanted to take away her pain and ease her stress.
I shook my head. What an odd thought.
I was going to be her lawyer. It was my job to do right by her—and I planned on doing exactly that. I was simply worried about my client’s well-being, as any good lawyer would be.
I cleared my throat and spoke her name.
“Fiona.”
She roused, her head snapping up. She met my gaze, her eyes wide and startled. They were the most brilliant green I had ever seen.
I held up my hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she scrambled to stand. “I am so sorry. I must have drifted off. I haven’t been sleeping well and the chair was comfortable and the office quiet… Oh God, I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive my behavior, Mr. Smithers.”
I frowned. She was apologizing too much for having a little nap. “Not a problem, Fiona. I’m glad you were comfortable enough to relax.” I leaned forward, dropping my voice. “These chairs are great for naps. I’ve had a couple in them as well.” I refrained from saying sometimes it was the only sleep I managed to get. Instead, I winked, easing the tension in the air. “As your attorney, your secret is safe with me.” I sat back, crossing my legs. “And I told you, it’s Hal.”
She sank back into her seat, a long sigh escaping her lips. “Thank you, Hal. Your office is nice. I felt quite…safe here.”
Her words bothered me.
“You don’t feel safe, Fiona?”
Her gaze skittered away. “I’ve been rather anxious.”
“Understandable.” Sensing that was all I was going to get out of her at the moment, I indicated the platter of food on the table across from us. “Why don’t we eat, and then we can discuss your case?”
“Okay.”
I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Great. I’m starving.”
Fiona
Watching Hal eat fascinated me. He was like a starving wolf, barely sitting down before grabbing a sandwich and tearing into it. He had been the same when I watched him at the bar on Friday, eating his burger with gusto, licking his fingers and polishing off everything on his plate, the look of enjoyment evident on his face.
Wordlessly, I poured him a coffee and lifted the cream, arching my eyebrow in question. He nodded around a mouthful, and I poured in the cream, stopping when the coffee reached a deep caramel color. He accepted the cup, still chewing, and already on his second sandwich. He pushed the plate in my direction, and I took one, nibbling on it, my appetite nonexistent these days.
Scott would have been overjoyed to hear that. He was constantly at me about food. What I should eat or not eat. How much I had on my plate. Constant jabs about how I had let myself go and how amazing his partners’ wives looked all the time. It didn’t matter what I prepared; he criticized my choice. Criticized me. Dining with him had become akin to having a tooth pulled—it was a painful process. His diet was as rigid as he was, and I couldn’t imagine him enjoying something as simple as a sandwich the way Hal was doing right now. Everything Scott ate was done with a disdainful expression, as if the food had offended him in some way.
It probably had.
Hal leaned back in his chair, still eating, although his pace had slowed. He didn’t push or ask any questions, allowing me the space I needed. He seemed to be lost to his thoughts, giving me the chance to study him again.
He was a good-looking man. His dark brown hair was swept high off his forehead in a widow’s peak, short on the sides, and brushed until it gleamed. He had a moustache and short beard, carefully trimmed and neat. It emphasized the sharp angles of his jaw and full mouth. His eyes were a deep navy—so dark, at first, I had thought them brown, but up close, I could see the blue catching the light. His expression was serious, intense at all times, with shadows that seemed permanently etched under his eyes adding to the severity of his expression. Even when he smiled, he never seemed to relax. Yet, unlike my soon-to-be ex-husband, Hal’s intensity wasn’t underwritten with a general contempt for everything around him. There was kindness in his eyes—something I had been missing desperately.
Hal was taller than me by at least a foot. He had wide shoulders that tapered to a slender waist and long legs—he wore suits well. I had no doubt they were custom made, the way his jackets clung to those broad shoulders. And he had beautiful hands. Long, elegant fingers with well-trimmed nails. He used them for emphasis when speaking, and I found the actions mesmerizing.
I shook my head at my unusual thoughts. He was my lawyer. Or at least, I hoped he would be. Scott hated him. Despised him on every level. Why, I never understood. He battled with other attorneys and remained impassive, yet Hal seemed to get under his skin. When Scott threw me out, once I recovered from the shock, I knew there was only one attorney for me.
Hal hadn’t believed me at first, but something had changed his mind. Whatever it was, I was grateful. I needed his expertise and dislike of Scott to make sure I wasn’t railroaded by my soon-to-be ex-husband.
I glanced up to find Hal’s gaze focused on me as he sipped his coffee. His plate was empty. In fact, the tray of sandwiches was gone, aside from the mostly uneaten one on my plate.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, pushing away my plate.
“You were lost in thought. I didn’t want to disturb.”
His words made me laugh quietly. “Scott would tell you I often am. He called me a pathetic dreamer more than once.”
“Scott is a narcissistic asshole. His opinions matter little to me, and they should to you as well.” He arched his eyebrow. “Especially now.”
I lifted one shoulder.
“Is that all you’re going to eat? I could order something else for you.”
“No, I’m fine. Just not overly hungry.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Forgive me for being blunt, Fiona, but you are much too thin. If I take your case, you need to know it’s going to be rough. I’ve been up against your husband many times, and he doesn’t fight fair. It’ll be especially bad since he is fighting for himself. I need you healthy and strong so you can fight back.”
My bark of laughter was harsh and so was my voice when I spoke.
“Scott would tell you I’m not thin enough.” I stood and paced around the room, suddenly too tense to sit any longer. “I was never enough in any way. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Not thin enough. Strong enough. I was simply never enough for him!”
Hal didn’t react to my tirade, but he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “That right there is what I need. Your anger. I want all the details I require to break him.”
“You hate him as much as he hates you. Why?” I asked, curious.
“Because we’re opposites. I fight for my client. For what is right. I take on cases I believe in and help people. Scott only wants to win. It doesn’t matter to him who he represents as long as the dollars are there. He has no issue using whatever tactic he can come up with—no matter how dirty or underhanded it is—if it means he can win. He wants the notoriety, attention, and money.”
I studied him for a moment. “You have all that as well. You have a reputation as a shark in family law.”
“One difference, Fiona. I want what is best for my client. I’m an asshole for them—not to them.”
It was a good analogy. I nodded, frowning, feeling tense and anxious.
He leaned back with a smirk
. “Just don’t ask my ex-girlfriends their opinion of me.” He met my eyes and winked. I had to laugh, knowing he was trying to break the tension. His personal life wasn’t any of my concern, although I had heard rumors.
I had to ask the question. “Am I your client?”
He paused before responding. “I have one rule. Truth. You tell me what I need to know—you give me the facts—and I will take your case and do everything I can to win. You lie to me, you omit details because they embarrass you or you hope I don’t find out, and we’re done. Because I will find them. If you can promise me you can be honest, then yes, I’m willing to take you on as a client.”
I sat down. “I’ll be honest.”
He picked up his pen. “Then let’s get started.”
Halton
“Where do you want me to start?” Fiona asked.
I pulled my notepad closer. “At the beginning. I don’t want to hear every detail of your courtship, but I need your history.”
She nodded, rubbing her arms as she looked around the room. “We met when I was nineteen. He was older and in law school. He had started late, so there was a six-year difference between us, not that it ever bothered me. I was going for my English Lit degree. I wanted to teach.” She frowned ruefully. “I never finished.”
“Why?”
“Scott was like a whirlwind. A tornado, really. He swept in and overtook everything. My dad had died not long before I met him, and I wasn’t myself. I was struggling. Scott sort of stepped in and filled that void.” She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. “He liked to make decisions, and I was so lost at times, I let him. A year after we met, we were married. I stopped going to school and got a job. The deal was I would work until he became an established lawyer, and then I would go back to school and get my degree, and he would support me.”
“That never happened, I assume?”
“No. In between my two jobs, I helped Scott. I was great at research, and he liked it when I worked with him. He said I made him better.” There was a sad tone to her voice. “That was back when he was Scott—a young guy with dreams for the future—dreams I was part of.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “Life, I guess. He graduated and was hired at a firm. He insisted that I still help him. He promised that once he was established, I could go back to school, but that he needed me. He said I knew him better than anyone, and there was no one he trusted more.”
“Was it a paid position?”
“Yes and no. He told me, for tax reasons, it was best to let him handle things. He put money in an account for me. He said he was on the bottom rung so there was no money for an assistant for him, and he didn’t want to use the pool of assistants they had.” She lifted one shoulder. “I know it sounds crazy, but I believed him. I did it because he asked. I was young, and Scott was my whole life. He needed me, and I needed to be needed.” She shifted restlessly. “It was my identity—I was Scott’s wife. What he needed was more important than what I needed. He kept promising my dreams would happen soon.” She smiled ruefully. “Soon never came.”
I nodded as I jotted a few notes. I had heard that from other clients. Promises made and never followed through on. Vows that were broken. White lies than became deeper and more complex until trust was severed and lost.
“I was totally under his thumb and too stupid to realize it.” She got up and moved around before she spoke again. “Things were okay for a while. He started making a name for himself and was doing well. But he began to change. He became jaded and angry. He yelled more and started picking at everything I did. He decided I only had to go into the office on occasion. He refused to even listen to me talk about going back to school or finishing my degree. He would say, when the time was right, we would discuss it.” She smiled ruefully. “The time was never right, of course. He started coming home later, talking less, pulling away more, controlling more and more of what I did, or said—even thought. His opinions became my opinions. I lost myself.” Her fingers picked at the sleeve of her blouse in a nervous, jerky motion. “Then one day, he dropped a bombshell. He said he was leaving the firm and going into practice with another couple of lawyers. He said it was the right time and the firm was holding him back. That he wasn’t happy.”
She fell silent, and I waited. So far, it was the typical story—nothing I hadn’t heard before now.
“Scott changed even more once he had his own firm. I didn’t like the people he partnered with. They were harsh and vindictive. He started acting like them. He grew cold. All that mattered to him was his career. His image. The firm. I fell to a very distant second—maybe lower. He grew even more controlling and belligerent. I was no longer welcome to help him—I wasn’t a proper assistant. He hired someone else. A long list of someone elses.”
“Was he cheating on you?”
“Yes. I was never able to prove it before, but he told me he was having an affair and no longer wanted to be married.” She lifted a shoulder. “He said we could move forward fast with a divorce since he knew I wouldn’t forgive him for cheating.”
“He’s right. It’s one of the few ways to speed up a divorce in Ontario and not have to wait a year of being separated. Unless you choose to forgive him and try again.” I let that sink in, then asked. “Do you, Fiona? Do you forgive him?”
“No.”
She sat down and met my gaze, hers tormented. “He isolated me, Hal. I lost myself. He controlled every aspect of my life. Where I went, who I saw, what I did. School was off the table. We had no children and no chance of ever having them together.” She paused, her voice breaking with emotion.
“Was that your choice?” I asked.
“No,” she said shortly, and I decided to leave that subject for another time.
“All right. Keep going,” I encouraged.
“The house, the business, everything we owned was in his name. I got an allowance, a cell phone, and a car. I was told to be grateful for what I had. He trotted me out to the occasional dinner, then ignored me again.” She focused her gaze on the wooden table, tracing the grain of the wood. “We haven’t been together as a couple in over four years.”
“Why did you stay?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think for the longest time, I hoped. Hoped he would remember when he couldn’t wait to get home to me. That he would find that spark I had seen in him when we first met. I kept thinking it would get better. I did everything I could. I stayed busy volunteering, doing charity work with other wives at the firm since school was no longer an option. I helped out at dinners and functions until Scott informed me he had no desire to attend them anymore. I kept the house immaculate and tried to be a good wife. Anything he asked of me, I did, but it never seemed to be enough. The time just…slipped away while I waited for him. I lost so many years.” She blew out a long breath. “My identity was so wrapped up in his, it was as if I no longer existed without him.”
I nodded, remaining silent. Once again, her story was familiar.
“From the outside, I had everything. A big house, a successful husband. I drove a new car, I had nice clothes, no money worries. But my life was empty. I was empty. And for the longest time, too weak to do anything about it."
I could sense her growing emotion, so I changed the direction of our conversation.
“Okay. Let’s move forward to now. What happened?”
“He came home one night two weeks ago. He told me he was done. He didn’t love me and he wanted out of our marriage and there was someone else.” She tilted her head. “It didn’t shock me, to be honest. He wasn’t happy about anything that had to do with me anymore. I had stopped trying as well. I was, ah, embarrassed, if I’m being honest.”
I paused in my notes. “Embarrassed?”
“I didn’t like the person he had become. Nasty, vindictive, underhanded.” Her voice dropped as if confessing a great sin. “I couldn’t stand for him to touch me anymore.”
“Did you know about his law firm? The kinds of cases
he worked on?”
“He never talked about it, but I read the paper. I saw the kinds of people he represented.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t the Scott I had married. The truth is he stopped being that man years ago.”
“But you stayed.”
“I had nowhere to go. No money, no job, no experience. All my friends had drifted away from me except for Joanne. She kept in touch, but usually when Scott wasn’t around. I’m not sure who despised the other more.”
“Is that where you’re staying?”
“Yes.”
“So he told you the marriage was over. What, then?”
“He told me he owned the house and I had to leave. He handed me an envelope with a bank card and a new account with twenty thousand dollars in it. He said to get a lawyer and he would be sure I was ‘looked after.’”
“Looked after? What does that mean exactly?”
“He said I wasn’t entitled to much since I never worked or brought anything to the marriage, but he would give me enough to live on until I could find someone else to sponge off.” Her hands curled into fists on her legs. “He even had the audacity to say he’d recommend someone to me.”
I barked out a laugh. “I bet he would.”
“Years ago, he made me sign something that said I would never go after his company.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I can always dispute the document. Say it was signed under duress.”
“He also told me things have been tight lately and profits are down, but we would work something out.” She shifted in her chair. “Then he made me pack a bag, and he drove me to a hotel. He said it was paid for a week, and after that, I was on my own. I called Joanne, and she came and got me right away.”
I snorted and set down the notepad. “Okay, I am going to give it to you straight. First off, he is full of shit. You are entitled to your share of the marital wealth. You did bring something to the table. You helped put him through school, and you basically worked for free for years. As for profits, he’s trying to scam you, Fiona. He’s going to downplay everything to make sure you get as little as possible. His offer to send you to a lawyer would be some underhanded buddy of his who would help Scott screw you over.” I ran a hand over my face. “He is such a piece of trash. I’m going to enjoy going after him. I’ll drain him of everything. He’ll be lucky to have a firm when I’m done.”
Halton: Vested Interest #6 Page 4
