Page 259 of The Wright Man

Chapter Forty-Six

Angelica

Walking into the courthouse on Friday morning, I didn't feel nerves. I didn't feel fear. I felt ready.

The fire in my chest was steady. Controlled. The kind that warmed your skin without ever threatening to burn the whole house down. My spine was straight, my steps were smooth, and my heart was light in a way it hadn't been in years. I wasn't the same woman who stumbled into mediation on Monday.

That version of me was gone.

Not because I wasn't hungover this time—though coconut water and a full night's sleep definitely helped. It wasn't because of the fresh set of box braids I installed yesterday either, although I looked like a goddess and walked like I knew it. And it wasn't even the curve-hugging, cocoa-colored ensemble I'd bought just for today—though it was giving high-grade distraction under my demure little cardigan. No, this confidence had nothing to do with clothes, hair, or hydration.

It was because today was it. The end.

I was getting divorced.

Today, I was walking away from Gavin Riddle. For good.

And I was going to look good as hell doing it.

Maleek was next to me, tall and steady, his hand resting just above the curve of my ass like it always did when he was feeling protective—but chill about it. That little spot on my lower back had become a silent conversation between us. I've got you. I'm here. Let's handle this shit.

I glanced at him once, caught the edge of his profile—calm, confident, a little dangerous—and my heart gave one soft, steady thump of reassurance.

We walked through security without a word. Our movements synchronized like breath. Every step toward that courtroom felt less like walking into battle and more like walking into a well-earned victory.

When we reached the courtroom doors, I clocked Gavin immediately. Sitting with his lawyer, looking like a smug bastard who hadn't slept right in weeks but still thought he had a shot. Jasmine was there too. Of course she was. Wearing a stiff blazer and too much highlighter, like the courtroom was an influencer brand meeting and not the site of her baby daddy's final L.

They looked like a perfect pair of assholes—high on arrogance and audacity. They deserved each other.

The past four days had been a blur of legal back-and-forth, scanned documents, signed paperwork, and phone calls that ended with me rubbing my temples and muttering "I hate that man" under my breath. But Maleek's lawyer—my lawyer now—had kept me sane. I hadn't asked too many questions. Just trusted the process. Trusted him. Trusted Maleek.

The courtroom was chilly, but I felt warm all over. Maleek gave my hand a gentle squeeze, just as the bailiff called our case.

"Riddle v. Reed."

I stood up without hesitation. Gavin and his lawyer rose at the same time, smug and cocky like they were about to win an award or something. Jasmine crossed her legs and smiled like she was waiting for the cameras to start rolling.

The judge—a sharp-eyed woman in her early fifties with a low bun and zero tolerance for bullshit—looked down at the paperwork in front of her. "Counsel, please state your names for the record."

Gavin's lawyer did first. Loud, over-enunciated. The kind of voice that thought every syllable should be wearing a three-piece suit.

"Edward Langston. Counsel for Mr. Gavin Riddle."

Then Gavin, who said his name like it was a brand he was desperate to protect. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

And then me.

I stood tall, took a breath, and spoke directly into the mic.

"Good morning, Your Honor. My name is Angelica Day Reed, respondent in this case."

My voice didn't shake. My heart didn't race. It was the cleanest, most unbothered I'd felt in months.

The judge looked at me, eyebrows lifted slightly. "Ms. Reed, are you representing yourself today?"

Before I could respond, the doors opened behind me.

"Apologies for the delay, Your Honor. Emergency call from another client."