Chapter Five

Fayre

His questions made me scoff. The fact that he thought he still had rights to ask me who I was with, or who I wasn’t with, was ridiculous.

Mitchell crossed the lobby before his lawyers could reach him. He stopped in front of Matteo, his eyes fixed on our joined hands.

“What are you doing with my wife?” he demanded. His eyes fixated on Matteo’s hands, and now his caressing thumb, running up and down my palm.

I bet he never imagined that I would meet one of his idols. What a shame. I watched as he regarded us with disbelief. Matteo proceeded to move, but Mitchell stopped us in our tracks.

“She is not your wife,” Matteo said.

“Yes, she is,” Mitchell snapped. “And you are holding her hand.” He insisted. He proceeded to form a bridge between us. “Fayre, is this a payback or what? Or were you cheating on me with this—” Before he could finish his statement, Matteo lifted his free hand and snapped his fingers once. Four Sovereign Trust guards stepped forward and took Mitchell by the arms.

“Let go of me!” Mitchell shouted, twisting against their grip. “Fayre, tell them to let go. You are still my wife, damn it.” He struggled, but all to no avail.

I ignored him, then turned to Matteo, who still hadn’t left my hand. He pulled it toward his lips, then kissed it.

“We should go inside. The judge does not wait for anyone.”

The room was full. My grandfather took the aisle seat on our side with his cane across his knees, and Matteo sat beside me. Our lawyer took the chair on my other side, and the bodyguards settled into the row behind us. Across the aisle, Ria sat behind Mitchell with one hand resting on her stomach. Mitchell kept turning in his seat to look at Matteo, and then at me. I looked straight ahead.

“All rise,” the bailiff called.

We stood. The judge took the bench and told us to sit, and everyone sat down.

“Are both parties present?” the judge asked, reading from the file.

“We are, Your Honor,” Mitchell’s lawyer said, and ours answered the same.

“Then we will begin. This hearing was called for the permanent dissolution of the marriage between Lady Fayre Vance and Mr. Mitchell, and for the division of their properties.”

Mitchell’s lawyer stood and buttoned his jacket. “Your Honor, my client is the founder of Mitchell Corp. The company, its properties, and the inheritance attached to it belong to him, and he intends to protect his rights over all of them. He is willing to give Mrs. Vance a monthly stipend, and nothing more.”

“A stipend,” the judge repeated.

“An allowance, Your Honor. A generous one, considering she has not worked in years.”

Mitchell leaned across the aisle. “You see? I am being fair to you.”

“You are being loud,” I said quietly.

Our lawyer rose. “Your Honor, my client does not need a stipend. She does not want anything from the property that does not belong to her.”

Mitchell laughed under his breath. “Now she wants to be noble.”

“Noble would be giving you more than the contract does,” I said.

“What contract?”

I did not answer him.

Our lawyer handed a page to the clerk. “Your Honor, before the division, the court should see the corporate order dated last month. It cancelled the funding for the pediatric heart research project and moved that money to a private prenatal medical team.”

The judge read it and looked up. “Mr. Mitchell, is this your signature?”

Mitchell stood. “It is, Your Honor. It was a business decision. The funds needed to go somewhere more urgent.”

“More urgent than our daughter?” I asked.

“Do not start that again, Fayre. You always said her illness was worse than it was.”

“You told me I was using her illness to get your attention.”

“You were.”

“She is dead!!, Mitchell.!! My daughter is dead!” I yelled as warm tears surfaced again, my voice echoing within the walls of the courtroom.

Grandpa tried holding my hands, but I wasn’t having it. I pulled my hands away, then wiped my tears. The room went quiet. Mitchell’s mouth opened, and the judge told him to sit, and he sat.

“Counsel, continue,” the judge said.

“Your Honor, the other side has said more than once that my client signed her rights away when she married,” our lawyer said. “We would like the contract read in full.”

The clerk carried the document to the bench. The judge read for a long moment before speaking.

“Clause fourteen states that every investment Lady Vance placed in Mitchell Corp, along with all the interest accumulated on it over the past three years, remains her property.”

“That is not what it says,” Mitchell said. “I read that contract.”

“Clause fourteen, Mr. Mitchell,” the judge said, and a copy was passed to his lawyer. His lawyer read it, and his face lost its color.

Mitchell took the page from him and read it twice. “This has to be a mistake.”

“It is not,” I said. “You never read it, did you?” Looking over to him, his eyes bulging in their sockets, I could already tell from the look on his face that he was panicking.

Coated in dread even, but I loved the look. I loved that Ria, who was beside him, had stopped touching her stomach, and stopped sitting either. She looked equally mortified by the idea that I might have scored in this little game of theirs.

“I trusted you,” he whispered.

For the first time, a true smirk surfaced. “You trusted that I would never ask for anything.”

“You let me believe I owned everything,” he responded, almost standing from his seat.

“I let you believe what you wanted to believe,” I said. “You always did.”

I had never meant to take anything from him. When I signed that contract, I did not think about it at all, because I loved him and never planned to leave.

My grandfather was the one who insisted on it, and he would never have let me sign anything that handed Mitchell everything I owned. I glanced at him now, sitting straight with both hands on his cane, and I could not help being grateful.

He had seen who Mitchell was long before I did, and he had still let me follow the man I loved.

The judge set the page down. “The court rules as follows. Mr. Mitchell will retain one hundred thousand dollars. Two buildings held by Mitchell Corp will be confiscated and added to Lady Vance’s share of the settlement. All of her investments and their accumulated interest are returned to her. The marriage is dissolved.”

“One hundred thousand?” Mitchell’s voice cracked. “That is everything I have left!”

“That is what the contract leaves you,” the judge said.

“You planned this, Fayre.”

“My grandfather planned the contract. I only signed it.”

“You lied to me!”

“I never told you what it said. You never asked.”

Mitchell jumped to his feet and lunged across the aisle toward me. An officer stepped into his path, and Mitchell punched him in the face.

There was an audible gasp in the room, and immediately, the judge slammed his hammer on the table.

“Mr. Mitchell,” the judge said, rising from the bench.

“You have just struck a law enforcement officer in my courtroom. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Fuck you, Judge, and fuck everyone here. I don’t care.”

“Oh, wonderful. I bet you wouldn’t care about spending one week in jail! Take him out.”

Two officers took his arms. He fought them the whole way down the aisle.

“You can’t do this to me!” he shouted. “Why are you doing this? I am your husband! We had a child together, and you cannot just put that aside! You lied to me! You are a thief!”

I stood, picked up my bag, and did not answer him. Matteo took my hand, my grandfather and the guards fell in around us, and we walked out together.

In the corridor, the courtroom doors opened behind us.

Ria had come out. She stepped in front of me, eyes red from crying and yelling as the guards dragged her beloved out of the court.

I heard her screaming his name. I didn’t care. But seeing her now, all I cou

ld think about was how she smirked at me earlier.

Now who’s crying?