Part 1
Richard Sterling thought the divorce was already over.
He had the high‑priced legal team, the ironclad prenup, and the arrogance of a man who had never lost a deal in his life. When he saw his wife Kaye walk into the Superior Court of Cook County courtroom in Chicago without a lawyer, he actually laughed out loud.
He leaned over to his associate and whispered, “This is going to be a slaughter.”
But the smile was wiped from his face the moment Judge Harrison took the bench.
He didn’t ask Kaye where her lawyer was. Instead, he looked at her with a flicker of shocked recognition and called her by a name Richard hadn’t heard in a decade.
What happened next wasn’t a trial.
It was an execution.
The air in courtroom 4B of the Superior Court of Cook County smelled of stale coffee and expensive cologne.
To Richard Sterling, it was the scent of victory.
Richard adjusted the cuffs of his bespoke Brioni suit, checking the reflection of his Patek Philippe watch in the polished mahogany table.
He was forty‑five, handsome in a jagged, predatory way, and currently the CEO of Sterling Halloway Holdings, one of the largest commercial real estate firms in Chicago.
On paper, he was worth just over eighty million dollars, and he was about to make sure his wife, Kaye, didn’t get a dime of it.
“She’s late,” Arthur Caldwell muttered, checking his own watch.
Arthur was Richard’s lead counsel, a man whose hourly rate could feed a family of four for a month. He was a shark in a pinstripe suit, known for burying opponents under mountains of paperwork until they suffocated.
“Let her be late,” Richard chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
“Probably trying to find a parking spot for that beat‑up Honda I let her keep.”
“Or maybe she’s crying in the bathroom,” Arthur said dryly.
“Honestly, Arthur, I almost feel bad for her. Almost.”
Richard glanced at the empty table across the aisle.
It looked pathetic.
Just a bare wooden surface, two empty chairs, and a silence that screamed defeat.
“Remind me again,” Arthur said, leafing through a three‑inch‑thick file. “Who is representing her? The notice of appearance was blank.”
“That’s the point,” Richard grinned.
“She doesn’t have anyone.
I froze the joint accounts three weeks ago. She can’t afford a retainer for a decent lawyer, and she’s too proud to go to legal aid.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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