Chapter 8 - THE VOIDED PRENUP
Clara Mercer didn't sit in the hospital chairs; she stood by the window, her tablet open as she scanned the digital copies of the Holden family trust documents.
“The prenuptial agreement Brian had you sign was designed to leave you with nothing in the event of a divorce,” Clara said, her voice crisp and professional. “No alimony, no share of the real estate, and limited custody of Lily if you initiated the split. It was a very thorough, very cruel piece of work.”
“Can we fight it?” I asked, holding Lily’s hand as she stirred in her sleep.
“We don't need to fight it, Megan,” Clara said, a sharp, brilliant smile appearing on her face. “We’re going to void it entirely.”
“How?”
“There’s a standard public policy clause in every marital contract in the state of Georgia,” Clara explained, tapping the screen of her tablet. “No agreement can be enforced if one of the parties commits a felony assault against the other during the marriage, especially when it involves the endangerment of a minor child. The moment Brian’s palm struck your face on that video, the prenuptial agreement became nothing more than a piece of scrap paper.”
She turned the tablet toward me, showing a list of assets.
“And because Brian consolidated your late father’s estate funds into his family’s primary trust last year, we now have a claim on the entire Holden real estate portfolio. We’re not just taking your father’s money back, Megan. We’re taking his mother's house.”
I looked at the screen, my heart doing a slow, warm turn.
The house where I had been forced to cook, to clean, and to endure Donna’s cold, cruel remarks for three years—the house where Brian had struck me—was about to belong to me.
“What about Donna?” I asked.
“She’s currently out on a fifty-thousand-dollar bond,” Clara said. “But her lawyers are already advising her to plead guilty to the accessory charges. If she goes to trial with that video of her smiling at your assault, the jury will convict her in ten minutes. Her social standing in this county is dead, Megan. She won't be hosting any more charity lunches.”
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I looked out the window, where the sun was now high in the sky, melting the last of the frost on the grass.
The trap had closed. But it hadn't closed around me. It had closed around the family that had spent decades believing their wealth and their name made them untouchable.
