Chapter 5
Three days later, I sat in the office of Margaret Hayes—the most aggressive divorce attorney in Manhattan.
She flipped through my prenup with raised eyebrows.
"This is... remarkably one-sided."
"I'm aware."
"You signed away all marital property, accepted a five-year NDA, and agreed to zero alimony?" She peered at me over her glasses. "Honey, were you in love or in a hostage situation?"
"Both, apparently." I didn't smile. "Can you get me out?"
"The NDA is enforceable but narrow—it only prevents you from disclosing the marriage to media or business associates. It doesn't prevent you from filing." She tapped her pen against the desk. "The issue is that he's contesting. His legal team filed a response this morning."
"On what grounds?"
"'Irreconcilable procedural delays.' Basically, he's buying time."
"How much time?"
"Could be months. Could be a year, depending on the judge."
A year. A year more of being Olivia Cole on paper.
"Is there a faster way?"
Margaret leaned forward. "There is. But you won't like it."
"Tell me."
"If you can prove the marriage caused you material harm—emotional distress, career damage, public humiliation—we can push for expedited dissolution." She paused. "That means going on record. About everything."
Going on record. Breaking the silence. Exposing Ethan Cole—tech billionaire, philanthropist, New York Magazine's "Most Eligible Bachelor" three years running—as a man who hid his wife like a dirty secret.
"The NDA—"
"Covers media and business associates. A court filing is neither." Margaret's smile was sharp. "Testimony in divorce proceedings is protected. He can't sue you for telling a judge the truth."
I sat with that. The truth.
Three years of invisibility, condensed into legal language. Exhibits A through Z—every holiday alone, every public event I wasn't invited to, every time he introduced himself as single.
"Do it," I said.
Margaret nodded. "I'll draft the filing. We'll need evidence—texts, photos, anything showing the deliberate concealment."
I had years of it. Every "don't tell anyone" text. Every event I watched through social media instead of attending. The NDA itself was evidence enough—who makes their spouse sign a non-disclosure agreement?
"One more thing," Margaret said as I stood to leave. "Ethan Cole's legal team is headed by Richard Park. He's good—very good—and very expensive. This won't be cheap."
"I have savings."
"Enough for a prolonged fight against a billionaire?"
I faltered. She was right. My resident's salary barely covered rent.
"Don't worry about that yet." Margaret pulled out a file. "I'm taking this pro bono."
"Why?"
Her expression softened—just barely. "Because my first husband did the same thing. And no one helped me." She extended her hand. "Let's burn this down."
I shook it.
Walking home that night, the city felt different. Sharper. More mine.
My phone rang—an unknown number. I answered.
"Dr. Chen?" A woman's voice. Familiar but I couldn't place it.
"Yes?"
"It's Serena."
My stride faltered. I stopped on the sidewalk, pedestrians flowing around me.
"How did you get this number?"
"David gave it to me." Her voice was quiet. Thin. "I know you have no reason to trust me. But I need to tell you something."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"Please." A shaky breath. "I didn't know. About the marriage. He told me he was single—always single. I only found out three weeks ago, and I—" Her voice cracked. "I confronted him. That's why we broke up."
I pressed my phone harder against my ear.
"He lied to both of us, Olivia. And I have proof."
She flipped through my prenup with raised eyebrows.
"This is... remarkably one-sided."
"I'm aware."
"You signed away all marital property, accepted a five-year NDA, and agreed to zero alimony?" She peered at me over her glasses. "Honey, were you in love or in a hostage situation?"
"Both, apparently." I didn't smile. "Can you get me out?"
"The NDA is enforceable but narrow—it only prevents you from disclosing the marriage to media or business associates. It doesn't prevent you from filing." She tapped her pen against the desk. "The issue is that he's contesting. His legal team filed a response this morning."
"On what grounds?"
"'Irreconcilable procedural delays.' Basically, he's buying time."
"How much time?"
"Could be months. Could be a year, depending on the judge."
A year. A year more of being Olivia Cole on paper.
"Is there a faster way?"
Margaret leaned forward. "There is. But you won't like it."
"Tell me."
"If you can prove the marriage caused you material harm—emotional distress, career damage, public humiliation—we can push for expedited dissolution." She paused. "That means going on record. About everything."
Going on record. Breaking the silence. Exposing Ethan Cole—tech billionaire, philanthropist, New York Magazine's "Most Eligible Bachelor" three years running—as a man who hid his wife like a dirty secret.
"The NDA—"
"Covers media and business associates. A court filing is neither." Margaret's smile was sharp. "Testimony in divorce proceedings is protected. He can't sue you for telling a judge the truth."
I sat with that. The truth.
Three years of invisibility, condensed into legal language. Exhibits A through Z—every holiday alone, every public event I wasn't invited to, every time he introduced himself as single.
"Do it," I said.
Margaret nodded. "I'll draft the filing. We'll need evidence—texts, photos, anything showing the deliberate concealment."
I had years of it. Every "don't tell anyone" text. Every event I watched through social media instead of attending. The NDA itself was evidence enough—who makes their spouse sign a non-disclosure agreement?
"One more thing," Margaret said as I stood to leave. "Ethan Cole's legal team is headed by Richard Park. He's good—very good—and very expensive. This won't be cheap."
"I have savings."
"Enough for a prolonged fight against a billionaire?"
I faltered. She was right. My resident's salary barely covered rent.
"Don't worry about that yet." Margaret pulled out a file. "I'm taking this pro bono."
"Why?"
Her expression softened—just barely. "Because my first husband did the same thing. And no one helped me." She extended her hand. "Let's burn this down."
I shook it.
Walking home that night, the city felt different. Sharper. More mine.
My phone rang—an unknown number. I answered.
"Dr. Chen?" A woman's voice. Familiar but I couldn't place it.
"Yes?"
"It's Serena."
My stride faltered. I stopped on the sidewalk, pedestrians flowing around me.
"How did you get this number?"
"David gave it to me." Her voice was quiet. Thin. "I know you have no reason to trust me. But I need to tell you something."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"Please." A shaky breath. "I didn't know. About the marriage. He told me he was single—always single. I only found out three weeks ago, and I—" Her voice cracked. "I confronted him. That's why we broke up."
I pressed my phone harder against my ear.
"He lied to both of us, Olivia. And I have proof."