Chapter 1
No One Likes Ugly Surprises
“Miss Collins?” a meek voice called from the open glass door of my office.
“Yes?” Looking up from my laptop, I saw the tiny frame of the woman I could only assume was my last appointment of the day.
“I’m Dahlia Reynolds.” She shuffled into my brightly decorated space with her head hanging low. From the bags under her eyes, disheveled appearance, and mismatched clothing, I could tell she hadn’t slept in days.
“It’s a pleasure, Dahlia.” We shook hands quickly. “Please have a seat and let’s get down to business.”
I had been doing divorce law ever since I left college. It wasn’t my first choice by any means, but I had fallen into it quickly with my first internship and had a knack for the cutthroat world. I didn’t like the fact that I profited from people’s misery, but I tried to focus on being the facilitator of finding some happiness for my clients in their darkest hour.
“Well, I don’t even know where to start.” Dahlia pulled a tissue out of her purse and instantly started crying.
From the brief phone call I’d had with her before the meeting was set, all I knew was that she was the one who’d decided to file to terminate her relationship with her husband.
“Why don’t we start with why you have decided to leave your husband.” I offered a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile as she slowly brought her gaze up from her lap.
“He’s a cheating bastard,” she wailed in muffled tones.
That was easy.
“Do you have proof of the infidelity?” I questioned.
Her eyes grew three times as she barked, “A woman has a way of knowing.”
After taking a deep breath, I calmly continued. “I was only asking to better know how to help you. Please know I am on your side and will do everything in my power to aid you to the best of my ability. I just have to ask a few routine questions to make sure I have all the facts so I can put a game plan in order.”
“What more information do you need? He’s a cheater. I hate his guts. He doesn’t deserve to be married to me. He can have his two-bit hookers and sluts. I’m done!” The bitterness that dripped from her was palpable. She was turning into a bawling mess, but I needed to get as much information as possible from my newest client.
“How long were you and Mr. Reynolds married?” I continued without missing a beat. It wasn’t uncommon for my clients to lash out—it was the ones who didn’t that worried me.
“Eleven years,” she muttered after taking a long breath.
“Do you have any children?”
“One, Noah. He just turned seven last Thursday.” Dahlia perked up a little bit as she spoke about her son.
“Aw, well happy belated birthday to your little guy,” I chirped as a tiny hint of a smile flashed on her sorrowful face.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as she fidgeted with the oversized purse in her lap. “He’s really a great kid.”
“I’m sure he is. Now back to the reason you’re here—when did you first suspect your husband of his indiscretions?”
“I figured it out about three weeks ago.” She sat up a little straighter, pulling at the hem of her off-white pencil skirt.
“And what made you first suspect him of cheating?”
“I would rather not say,” she muttered.
“If I am going to help you, I need all the facts.”
She took in another sharp breath. “I can’t.”
“Please, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“All right, it was when my gynecologist informed me I had contracted chlamydia,” she whispered, throwing her hand over her face. “Please don’t tell anyone. I am so embarrassed.”