85 Chapter 88
Chapter 88 – Calculated Chaos and a Costly Decree
“Mrs. Grayson’s demands are excessive and punitive in nature,” Julian’s lawyer declared, his voice echoing through the courtroom. “We contest the full settlement package as outlined.
1 froze in my seat, blood draining from my face. This wasn’t the plan. Julian had just promised me in the hallway that his lawyer would agree to all my terms.
My attorney leaned over. “Don’t panic,” she whispered. “This is likely a negotiation
tactic.
But I could see the smug look on Julian’s lawyer’s face as he continued listing objections to every single item in our settlement agreement. Julian himself wouldn’t meet my eyes, staring down at the table in front of him.
The betrayal stung anew. I should have known better than to trust him.
“Your Honor,” I interjected, rising to my feet. “May I request a brief recess? I need to consult with my attorney.”
The judge nodded. “We’ll take fifteen minutes.”
As soon as we were dismissed, I marched directly toward Julian, who was attempting to slip out a side door. I caught up to him in the hallway.
“What happened to agreeing to my terms?” I hissed, grabbing his sleeve.
Julian finally looked at me, his expression a mixture of guilt and defiance. “My mother convinced me to fight. She says I shouldn’t let you walk away with anything.”
“Your mother?” I laughed bitterly. “After what your sister did to me? After you promised-”
“I know what I promised,” he cut me off. “But my family-”
“Your family is toxic, Julian. And clearly, you’re no better.”
I pulled out my phone. “I was willing to keep Giselle’s little drugging attempt between. us. But now? I think the press would find this video fascinating.”
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Julian’s face paled. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” I challenged, my finger hovering over the screen. “I’m done playing nice.”
The courthouse doors burst open, and Mrs. Landon strode in, her designer heels. clicking against the marble floor. She made a beeline for us, her face contorted with rage and distress.
“Are you satisfied now?” she demanded, glaring at me. “Giselle attempted suicide this morning.”
Julian staggered back. “What? Why wasn’t I told?”
“I tried calling you,” Mrs. Landon snapped. “You were already in court. They pumped her stomach. The doctor said she took pills after you left the hospital yesterday.”
I felt a momentary flicker of guilt that I quickly suppressed. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it doesn’t change what she did to me.”
“She’s my daughter!” Mrs. Landon cried out. “Her life is falling apart because of your vendetta against this family!”
“My vendetta?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Your daughter tried to drug me! To facilitate what amounts to reproductive coercion!”
Our voices had risen, drawing attention. Several onlookers had gathered, smartphones raised. Among them, I spotted a familiar face–Victoria. And beside her stood Chloe Chase, Damien’s sister. They weren’t alone. There were at least a dozen elegantly dressed women I recognized from various social circles, all watching intently.
Mrs. Landon noticed them too and lowered her voice. “Julian, please. Let’s discuss this
privately.”
But it was too late. Victoria stepped forward, clearing her throat loudly.
“Ladies,” she announced to the growing crowd, “this is the woman who drugged Hazel’s drink at The Imperial Garden. And that’s the man who abandoned Hazel after she donated blood for five years to save his life.”
Murmurs rippled through the audience. Phones clicked as pictures were taken. Mrs.
Landon’s face went ashen.
“Julian,” she whispered urgently, “do something!”
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Before Julian could respond, the courthouse doors opened again, and more women filed in–wives and daughters of the city’s most influential families. I recognized them from charity galas and social events. My impromptu “support group” had apparently grown overnight.
“We’re here for the Ashworth–Grayson hearing,” one announced loudly. “To support our friend Hazel.”
The scene was becoming chaotic. Reporters who had been lingering outside caught wind of the commotion and pushed their way in. Flashes popped as cameras captured Mrs. Landon’s horrified expression.
In a move that stunned everyone, Mrs. Landon suddenly dropped to her knees in front of Julian.
“Please, son,” she begged, grasping his hands. “You have to protect our family. First your father’s scandal, now this… We can’t survive another public humiliation. Giselle is in the hospital. Think of her future!”
The spectacle of Mrs. Landon–the proud society matron–kneeling on the courthouse. floor created an immediate sensation. The clicking of cameras intensified.
Julian looked trapped, his gaze darting between his mother, the crowd, and me holding my phone with damning evidence.
I leaned in close. “Last chance, Julian. Agree to my terms, or I press play.”
The bailiff appeared, announcing that court was back in session. Julian helped hist sobbing mother to her feet and whispered something in her ear before turning to me.
“Fine,” he said, defeat evident in every line of his face. “You win.”
Back in the courtroom, Julian’s lawyer addressed the judge. “Your Honor, after consultation with my client, we are withdrawing our objections. Mr. Grayson agrees to Mrs. Grayson’s terms in full.”
I could hardly believe my ears. After months of delays and games, it was happening.
The judge raised an eyebrow but proceeded. Within thirty minutes, it was done. The decree was signed. I was Ms. Ashworth again.
As we stood to leave, Julian swayed on his feet. His face had gone gray.
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“Are you happy now?” he whispered hoarsely.
Before I could answer, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. His lawyer caught him before he hit the floor, shouting for help.
I backed away as courthouse security rushed in. The chaos that ensued–people shouting, Mrs. Landon screaming, medical personnel being called–barely registered. I felt oddly detached from the scene, as if watching it happen to someone else.
My lawyer guided me out a side door and into a quiet corridor.
“Congratulations,” she said, squeezing my arm. “You got everything you wanted.”
I should have felt elated. Instead, I felt… empty.
“There’s one thing you should know,” she added, crushing my momentary victory. “The judge has signed the decree, but there’s a fifteen–day appeal period before it becomes final. Mr. Grayson could technically still contest it during that window.”
My heart sank. “You’re saying I’m not actually divorced yet?”
“Not officially, no. But given what just happened in there, I doubt he’ll have the stomach to fight any further.”
I nodded numbly and thanked her before stepping outside the courthouse. Reporters. shouted questions that I ignored. Victoria appeared at my side, linking her arm with mine and shielding me as we walked to her car.
“You did it, girl,” she said proudly. “That was some show in there.
My phone rang before I could respond. Damien’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hello?” I answered, wondering how he already knew.
“I heard the judge ruled in your favor,” Damien said, his deep voice instantly calming. my frayed nerves.
I sank into Victoria’s car seat. “News travels
fast:
“I have my sources,” he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Since things went smoothly, can we have dinner tonight to celebrate?*
I glanced back at the courthouse, where paramedics were wheeling Julian out on a gurney, his mother trailing behind in tears. Smoothly wasn’t exactly the word I’d use.
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And according to my lawyer, I wasn’t truly free yet.
But Damien’s invitation represented something I desperately needed–a step forward, away from this mess.
“Dinner sounds perfect,” I heard myself say. “I could use something to celebrate.”
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86 Chapter 89
