Page 53 of Cold Foot Cash

“What is happening?” Harley asked stiffly. “Why is she here?”

“Because Lance is no longer allowed to be around you and your freaking head games without me around,” Alissa ground out.

“Oh my God,” Harley said, already feeling drained. “I already told you, he’s yours. I sent you the fucking screenshots. I do not want him.” Harley turned to Lance and looked straight into his eyes. “I do not want you.”

“Be that as it may,” Bronson said, opening a folder, and pulling out paperwork. “We need to keep this meeting professional, so Mrs. Fallonherd—”

“Ms. Monroe,” she corrected him. “Five more days until I can officially change back to my maiden name, but I’ve already started switching it over on everything I can. I’m Ms. Monroe.”

“Ms. Monroe,” Bronson corrected patiently. “I would appreciate if you would watch your language. As you have no doubt seen by our emails, Mr. Fallonherd wanted to touch base before our court date and propose a few changes to the paperwork before he signs.”

“You haven’t signed the divorce papers yet?” Abigail asked.

“He has until Tuesday, if the papers meet his requirements.”

“What requirements, Lance? Hmm?” Harley asked. “You already get everything.”

Bronson cleared his throat. “Because there is now the issue of infidelity—”

“Hisinfidelity,” Harley told Bronson. “I just want to make sure we state the facts right.”

“Well, it has come to my attention that you have participated in such behavior as well, which is the reason Mr. Fallonherd responded by moving on with Ms. Rayne. He had no choice—”

“Bronson, cut the shit,” Abigail said in that steel tone that had been the reason Harley had hired her in the first place. “You and I both know that’s not how it happened, and you coming in here throwing accusations at my client, while your client is literally dragging his mistress into divorce proceedings is insulting to what we do. What does he want?”

Bronson pursed his lips, and glanced at Lance, then back to the paperwork in front of him. Carefully, he said, “Since the issue of her infidelity has arisen, there is the matter of her car. It is in Mr. Fallonherd’s name.”

“Both of our names are on it,” Harley corrected him.

“Correct, which is why Mr. Fallonherd feels he has the right to half of the profit that will be accrued when you sell the car.”

“When I sell my car,” Harley repeated, wanting to flip this damn table.

“Harley,” Abigail warned softly.

“When I sell the only thing I am getting to keep in the divorce. The one thing. While he kept everything about his old life—”

“Not everything,” Lance argued.

“Shut the fuck up!” Harley screamed, standing.

“Harley!” Abigail warned.

Harley jammed her finger at him. “Fuck you.”

The fury in his eyes as she talked down to him made everything so clear. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her back. He was only interested in controlling her.

“You aren’t a man.”

“Harley, sit down,” Abigail ordered low.

“How can you represent a man like this?” she asked his lawyer. “You have to go home to your wife and talk about thiscase. What does she say about it? How does she feel about you helping a man drain a woman he treated like shit.” A stupid tear escaped to her cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. “What do you want, Lance? You want my clothes next? You want my shoes? You want my soul? What? What will finally fill that fucking awful hole inside of you?” A sob escaped her. “What?”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “I think because of the time it will take to sell the car, and procure the equity you have in it, we should put off the court date. I want exact numbers in the paperwork.”

Abigail allowed a dark laugh. Her chair creaked as she relaxed back into it, glaring at Bronson with an empty smile. “I wondered how you would do it this time. I wondered how you would avoid giving her closure. I wondered how, exactly, you would extend her suffering, and there it is. I’m getting the judge involved—”

“Abigail—”

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