Luca took a half-step forward, his eyes darting to the blue binder in my arms. “Jessi, put that down. That’s private family business. You have no right to touch those papers.”
“Private family business?” I held the binder up, my voice dangerously calm. “This is a contract where you literally put a price tag on our daughter’s childhood! Five hundred thousand dollars, Luca? That’s what Fiona is worth to you? A promotion and a payout from Mommy?”
Luca flinched, but Wendy didn’t even blink. She took a slow sip of her wine and stepped into the room.
“Don’t be dramatic, Jessi. Fiona would have the finest life money can buy. Private tutors, equestrian training, summer homes in Nantucket. What can you give her on a freelance graphic designer’s income? A rented apartment? Secondhand clothes?” Wendy sneered. “You are out of your depth. You were always out of your depth in this family.”
“I gave her a mother who loves her,” I said, stepping directly toward them. “Which is clearly something Luca never had.”
Luca’s face flushed crimson. “Shut up, Jessi! Give me the binder!”
He lunged toward me, his hands reaching for the documents.
I didn’t back down. Before his fingers could graze the plastic cover, I stepped aside and brought my elbow hard against his forearm, knocking his hands away. “Touch me again, Luca, and the police won’t just be coming for the missing sixty-four thousand dollars. They’ll be coming for domestic battery.”
Luca froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at Wendy, desperately waiting for her to tell him what to do next.
Wendy’s expression tightened into a mask of pure hatred. “You think you’re so clever. You think that silly little video Kelly took means anything? My attorneys will tie you up in court until you’re bankrupt. You won’t be able to afford a lawyer to fight for primary custody by the time we’re finished with you.”
“You’re right about one thing, Wendy,” I said, locking eyes with her. “I can’t afford an army of corporate sharks.”
I pulled my tote bag over my shoulder, holding the documents securely against my ribs.
“So it’s a good thing I hired Eleanor Vance.”
The color instantly drained from Wendy’s face. The wine glass in her hand wobbled, a drop of dark red liquid splashing onto her immaculate ivory sweater.
“Eleanor?” Wendy whispered, her voice cracking for the first time. “She… she wouldn’t take your case. She hates our branch of the family.”
“Exactly,” I said, walking straight between them toward the front door. “She hates you. And nothing makes a brilliant attorney work harder than the chance to destroy someone they despise.”
I didn’t look back as I walked out into the cool night air.
Behind me, through the open front door, I could hear Wendy shrieking at Luca: *“Call the firm! Wake up Harold right now! Call the firm!”*
I reached my car, locked the doors, and placed the blue binder on the passenger seat.
My phone was still recording. Every single word Wendy and Luca had spoken—the confirmation of moving the money, the mention of the postnuptial ambush, the threat to bankrupt me—was saved to the cloud.
As I pulled away from the curb, my hands were no longer shaking.
They wanted a war.
