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Mrs. Peters grabs the pen off the desk, signs the contract, and hands over the cashier’s check for my retainer.

“Make him squirm,” she says, her tone the type of cold that only happens when someone has been hurt one too many times.

Standing, I button my suit jacket before rounding the desk. I hold out my hand for Mrs. Peters. A light pink blush graces her cheeks as I help my client to her feet to walk her out.

“Manners, decency, and true love are lost. I thought Lyle was the love of my life when we married fifteen years ago.”

I walk with her to my office door.

“I’m a hopeless romantic and feel that there is one person for everyone. It is never too late to find your forever, Mrs. Peters.”

“Thank you, Alden, and please call me Darlene.”

“Very well, Darlene. My assistant, Rochelle, will be in touch with the next steps.”

Darlene nods as I open the door and steps out of my office, but then she stops and turns back.

I already know what’s coming. I’ve done this dance so many times.

Why do the betrayed always feel guilty?

“Are you sure we need to destroy him…I just⁠—”

“Mrs. Peters…Darlene, it’s a negotiation tactic. You always go for the jugular with the first settlement offer. The other side will lowball us, and we dance until we’re both happy. But I like to make sure we are just a touch happier. Whenever you start to feel uncertain, remember that you trusted Lyle with your heart. You gave him loyalty, love, and enough money to make him the tycoon he is today, and how did he repay you? By bringing a string of women into your home and your bed. Flaunting them and mocking your marriage vows. Those women had their heads on your pillow. Can you really let that stand?”

Her jaw tightens, and the look in her eyes hardens. I know exactly what buttons to push.

“No, I can’t. You’re right.” She leans in, her nostrils flaring with her newfound rage. “Take him for everything. I don’t care what you do to him.”

Music to my ears.

“I plan on it.”

Mrs. Peters smiles and marches down the hall.

“That was impressive as always,” Rochelle says with a sly, knowing smile. She’s seen me give this speech so many times that she can recite it by heart. “The pillow is new, but a nice touch.”

I glance at my assistant.

“Thank you, I came up with that just now. It added a certain visual flair that was needed.”

“So, you don’t know if the affairs took place in the bedroom?”

“The truth is what I make it,” I say with a shrug.

Straightening my suit, I head back to my desk as Rochelle steps into the office.

“Her husband was stupid enough to be caught on their home cameras with another woman. It only stands to reason that he had them in their bed, and they likely used her pillow. At least I didn’t say that he fucked her on the island where she makes dinner.”

“So kind of you,” she mocks.

“I thought so.”

“Don’t forget your birthday party is this weekend at your family’s estate, and you’ve got dinner with Malcolm in twenty minutes.”

I groan and stop packing my briefcase. There goes my evening workout. With the amount of time I spend there, I may as well be considered a gym rat.

“No, I’m not rescheduling again,” Rochelle says with a hand on her hip. “It will be the fourth time, and I’m tired of making excuses for you. He calls a dozen times a day.”