Voss turned slightly, tossing a dismissive glance toward me as if I were an unruly child who needed to be sent out into the hallway.
Preston nodded in solemn agreement beside his second-chair litigator, looking like a solemn martyr burdened by an unreasonable spouse.
Vivian Hale leaned forward in the front row of the gallery, whispering loudly enough for the bailiff to hear that I had always been an ungrateful social climber.
Arthur let out another low, rumbling chuckle from his seat, crossing his heavy arms over his chest as though he were watching a ship he owned crush an insignificant rowboat.
Judge Morrison leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bench, her gaze shifting to where I stood beside my sparse table.
“Mrs. Hale, Petitioner has produced a notarized waiver bearing what appears to be your signature, dated May fourteenth of last year.”
“Under the domestic relations code, a valid postnuptial property waiver places an extraordinary burden of proof upon the challenging spouse.”
