The assistant had not been told why they were needed.
Marcus looked toward the courtroom doors as though calculating whether he could leave.
The bailiff moved closer.
His new bride slowly removed her hand from the table.
“You used her name to pay for our wedding?” she asked.
Marcus did not answer.
She stood again.
“You told me she was draining you.
You said she refused to work.
You said the divorce would free your money.”
“I was going to fix everything.”
“With her house?”
“Sit down,” he hissed.
“No.” Her voice cracked.
“You lied to me.”
She pulled the diamond ring from her finger and dropped it onto the table.
It bounced once, spun in a bright circle, and fell flat beside his legal papers.
Marcus stared at it.
The arrogance finally left his face.
He looked smaller without it.
His attorney requested a recess.
The judge denied it until the remaining evidence had been entered into the record.
Denise documented the wedding charges one by one: airfare, resort deposits, photography, jewelry, private dining, and a luxury vehicle reservation in Cabo.
Nearly all of it had been placed on the joint credit account after Marcus had decided to leave me.
Some charges were made while he sat beside my hospital bed pretending to discuss my recovery.
One resort deposit had been processed less than twenty minutes before he entered my room with the divorce papers.
He had not come directly from work as he claimed.
He had been finalizing the celebration of my replacement.
When Denise finished, Marcus remained hunched over the table.
The judge ruled that the house would remain under the trust’s control and that Marcus had no authority to sell, mortgage, or occupy it without my permission.
The accounts titled solely to me and the trust were excluded from his demand.
The Range Rover was ordered returned to the trust pending final disposition.
The Cabo expenses and related credit charges were assigned to Marcus because the evidence showed they were incurred for his exclusive benefit after the marriage had effectively ended.
The court also ordered him to contribute to my legal fees.
Then the judge addressed the false loan documents.
“The suspected forgery and misrepresentation will be referred to the appropriate authorities,” he said.
“This court will not determine criminal liability today, but the evidence will be preserved.”
Marcus’s knees seemed to weaken.
He lowered himself into his chair, missed the edge, and caught the table with both hands.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at me.
“Evelyn, please.”
It was the first time he had spoken my name without contempt since entering the courtroom.
“We can fix this,” he said.
“I made mistakes.
I was under pressure.”
His new bride laughed once, a broken sound without humor.
“You were under pressure?”
Marcus ignored her.
He stepped toward me until the bailiff blocked his path.
“Give me another chance,” he said.
“We had five years.
That has to mean something.”
I remembered the envelope landing on my hospital blanket.
I remembered him glancing at the IV before telling me I could not afford to defend myself.
I remembered the way he had said the word embarrassing, as though my resistance would be the shameful part.
