Rebecca raised one eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Vivian had business credit issues that year.”
“Okay.”
“Renovations paid how?”
“Mix.”
“Some inheritance.”
“Some marital income.”
Rebecca wrote something.
“She may have reimbursement or equitable claims depending on the facts.”
“I’m not trying to steal from her.”
“Good.”
“Because courts dislike that and so do I.”
She continued.
“Retirement accounts?”
“Both.”
“Company ownership?”
“I started Hale Industrial before marriage.”
“Growth during marriage can still matter depending on jurisdiction and contributions.”
“I know.”
“Prenup?”
“No.”
“Postnup?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca stopped writing.
“You have a postnuptial agreement?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Why?”
“Vivian opened her business.”
“We wanted both companies insulated from each other’s liabilities.”
“Who drafted it?”
“Separate attorneys.”
“Excellent.”
Rebecca extended a hand.
“Send it.”
Ethan emailed.
She read for several minutes.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“This simplifies some issues.”
“Not all.”
“I assume.”
Rebecca looked up.
“Do you want to file today?”
Ethan stared.
The question turned emotion into procedure.
Date.
Case number.
Petition.
Legal caption.
He thought of Vivian’s smile.
You’ll calm down.
“Yes.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Then we file.”
By noon, his marriage existed in a courthouse database.
Ethan walked outside Rebecca’s office carrying copies of the petition.
He expected relief.
There was none.
He sat in his car and cried.
Not dramatically.
No sound.
Just tears he could not stop.
His phone buzzed.
Vivian.
Morning. Hope you slept. I think this can actually be healthy for us if you stop seeing it as rejection.
Ethan read it twice.
Then placed the petition in the passenger seat.
He did not answer.
The second day was worse.
Vivian texted at noon.
Just checking in.
At five:
I don’t want you sitting there imagining the worst.
At nine:
I care about you.
Ethan stared at the sentence.
Then archived the message thread without reading further.
Mara came over with Thai food.
She found him in the dining room surrounded by boxes.
“What are you doing?”
“Inventory.”
“Of what?”
“Documents.”
She looked around.
“You’ve always responded to emotional collapse with office supplies.”
“I filed.”
“I know.”
“Rebecca called me.”
Ethan looked up.
“Why?”
“I referred you.”