Chapter 8: Consulting Legal Counsel
The office of Arthur Pendelton smelled of old paper, leather, and stale black coffee. It was located on the third floor of a weathered brick building down near the county courthouse, far away from the gleaming glass towers of Julian's corporate district. Pendelton was a retired district family lawyer with silver hair, thick wire-rimmed glasses, and a habit of chewing slowly on an unlit cigar while he reviewed documents.
He slid my navy blue folder across his cluttered mahogany desk, tapping the corner of the state marriage certificate with a yellowed fingernail.
"Well, the document is ironclad," Pendelton said, his voice raspy from decades of courtroom arguments. "Signed by a licensed officiant, witnessed properly, and filed with the county clerk's office on October twelfth, two years ago. No matter what corporate arbitration agreements Mr. Vance signed with the Vance-Erickson conglomerate, a prior legal marriage supersedes subsequent civil engagements under state law."
I sat across from him in a worn leather armchair, my hands resting tightly in my lap. "Elena's family has deep pockets, Mr. Pendelton. They've already threatened my livelihood and sent warnings to stay away from Julian's buildings."
Pendelton offered a dry, knowing smile, lifting the unlit cigar to point it toward the window that looked out onto the rainy street. "People with money always think a court order is something they can buy off with a settlement check. But family law operates on a different kind of leverage. If Mr. Vance has indeed called off the wedding publicly, he's opened himself up to breach-of-contract suits from the Erickson side, which means their legal team is going to be very busy fighting each other instead of harassing you."
"What about Julian?" I asked quietly. "He's facing a board coup on Friday."
"Let them fight," Pendelton said simply. "Your concern isn't his corporate board seat. Your concern is protecting your personal liability and ensuring that any division of assets accounts for the entirety of the marriage, not just his public life. If you want a clean break, we file for formal dissolution and request an emergency injunction against third-party harassment—including Ms. Erickson."
I looked down at the desk, tracing the edge of the marriage certificate. For two years, I had treated this piece of paper like a secret shame, something to be locked away in a metal box under a bed. Now it was the only thing standing between me and the erasure of my entire existence.
"Do it," I said, looking up to meet the lawyer's steady gaze. "File the injunction."
Pendelton nodded, pulling a fresh pad of yellow legal paper toward him and uncapping a heavy fountain pen. "Smart girl. Now, there's one more thing. The Erickson foundation is hosting their annual charity gala this Saturday night at the Grand Plaza Hotel. It's a black-tie affair that was supposed to be Julian and Elena's public debut as a couple. Word is, the board expects them both to be there to project stability to the investors."
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"Julian won't go," I said, shaking my head.
"He might not have a choice," Pendelton replied, scratching a note onto the paper. "If he doesn't show, they trigger the default clause on his shares. And if Elena is there, she'll be looking for blood."
