A low murmur rippled through the room. Daniel didn’t even try to hide his amusement. He leaned back, folded his arms, and shook his head in exaggerated sympathy.
“With no money, no power, no one on your side…” he said loudly, ensuring the room heard him. Then he leaned forward, his smile sharp and cruel. “Who’s going to rescue you, Grace?”
The words stung, but I kept my expression blank. Daniel was convinced this was his final victory. He had the house, the accounts, the influence. Over our twelve-year marriage, he had slowly stripped away my connections—to friends, to work, to independence—until I relied on him entirely. When I finally asked for a divorce after uncovering his affair, he froze every account overnight. He wanted me desperate. Helpless.
The hearing moved forward as his attorney presented Daniel’s demands: sole ownership of the house, primary custody of our daughter Lily, and a settlement so small it bordered on insulting. Daniel watched me closely, expecting tears, fear, or collapse.