Page 2 of Hap

Becky mouths the word sorry and nods. Mrs. Sutton soon storms in, and her yellow bleached hair is curled in waves, her designer purse in hand, and her Botox and collagen face is set void of emotion. The woman needed to ease off on the surgery. She was in her early 40s, so she didn’t need it.

“Alina, I’ve just received this!” She huffs before slamming a piece of paper down on my desk with her perfectly manicured hand.

I lift the piece of paper up to read. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Sutton. Lovely to see you,” I mutter with a forced smile as I begin to read over the paper. “Your husband’s lawyers sent me a copy of this letter. I can assure you it’s all in hand, but I would urge you to consider this offer,” I state. Mrs Sutton has been a pain in my ass ever since I took her on as my client. Sure, divorce was hard, and it was messy, but then there were people like Mrs Sutton that just went all out to be difficult. She wasn’t just making her soon-to-be ex-husband’s life a misery, but mine as well.

“He wants our holiday villa!” she screeches. I wince as her voice cuts through me like nails on a chalkboard.

“But you said you wanted the house. The 10-bedroom house is worth 8.5 million. The villa is only valued at 2 million. I see that as a very large and successful settlement,” I point out to her.

She huffs and crosses her arms over her plastic chest. “For the lies he told, he deserves to suffer.”

I rub my fingertips across my forehead. “I’ve gone through this with you, Mrs. Sutton. The fact that he didn’t tell you that he had hair plugs isn’t something I can push the judge for as being a lie. You have only been married 9 months, and his offer of the house is more than generous,” I press. The woman was a savage bloodsucking leech. Her husband was a nice guy, and he was absolutely rich. He had more than those properties and more money in his bank than the Queen of England probably did. This was nothing to him, but unfortunately for Mr. Sutton, his wife knew exactly how much he was worth and what she could try and get.

“Maybe I should find a new lawyer, one that knows how to fight for what is owed to me,” she threatens.

My lips twitch. I’m the best, and she knows it. “By all means, settle your bill and go and hire another lawyer. You know as well as I do that what you are being offered is more than reasonable.You also know that no other lawyer would be able to get you this kind of deal. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment I need to get to,” I say before standing.

I was only planning on having one glass tonight, but after this I might have the entire bottle.

“Tell them I accept the offer,” she mutters.

I pause, shocked, but as I look at her, I keep my face neutral. “Okay,” I say with a nod. “I will have the papers drawn up.”

She gives me a brief nod and leaves. I stare at her retreating back and shake my head. After she’s left, Becky sticks her head around the corner. “Did I hear that right?” Becky asks.

I nod. “You did. Call Mr. Sutton’s lawyers for me and tell him that we have a deal and to draw up their papers. We will sign on Monday,” I state before I grab my briefcase and walk out. “See you Monday.” I grin.

Pulling onto my driveway, I notice Trent’s car is there. He must have finished work early. I walk through the front door and place my briefcase down before I kick my heels off. I walk through the house looking for him, and that’s when I notice the back door is open. He must be in the hot tub. With a smile, I decide to grab the wine and two glasses before I walk out onto the decking.

“Room for one more?” I ask before my eyes take in the sight in front of me. Trent has his head tilted back in ecstasy. “Trent?” I call out, this time with an edge to my tone. He hears me this time, and his head snaps up, his eyes wide as they land on me. He jumps, and a woman’s head surfaces from under the water.

“Why did you make me stop?” she whines.

“Steph?!” I screech.

She whirls around to face me, her face pale, her expression masking Trent’s look of horror. I don’t know why they are looking so fucking shocked to see me in my own house. It shouldbe me that looks like that after seeing my sister blowing my husband!

“Alina, I can explain,” Trent begins.

My hands tremble with the wine and glasses in my hands as I look at my sister. My fucking sister. That searing pain hurt more than anything. “How could you?” I ask her, dismissing Trent.

She looks down, and at least she has the audacity to look ashamed. “We didn’t plan it. We tried to stop it after the first time,” she begins to explain.

“Oh well, that’s okay then. 10 out of 10 for fucking effort!” I yell. I raise my hand and throw the wine bottle on the decking, smashing it to pieces. “When did it start?” I growl.

“At Mindy’s wedding,” she mutters.

I pause for a moment as my brain begins to work out how long ago that was. “That was over 6 months ago!” I couldn’t go to our cousin’s wedding, as I had a court appointment scheduled at the same time, so Trent went alone with my sister and my parents.

“Sweetness,” Trent coos. I throw the wine glasses at him, and luckily they smash just to the right of him on the decking. Damn, I was never good at aiming.

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that, or speak to me in that voice,” I mutter through gritted teeth. Tears are stinging my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “We were trying for a fucking baby. For months and months, we were going to go for tests. We had a meeting with the fucking doctor just last week!” I yell.

“I just don’t think I’m ready for a kid right now,” he says with a shrug.

“Not ready? Not fucking ready? You are 45, and I am 39! I waited, and I waited for you to be ready. I wasted years of my fucking life on you for you to only now decide you are not ready. So instead, you decide a great idea would be to fuck my babysister!” I spit, feeling seething, red-hot anger course through my veins.

“I’m not a baby,” Steph argues. I roll my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You are 22 years old, and you’ve decided that my husband—my 45-year-old husband—is the man for you!” I snap. “I want you out of my house and out of my life. Both. Of. You,” I growl. Trent goes to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “The house is in my name. I have made every payment on it. You have paid nothing. Also, by committing adultery, you have lost all rights to even make a claim for anything. Now get the fuck out of my house!” I roar.

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