“Forget it,” Jill decided. “I don’t object.”
“If you’re sure? We’ll proceed.” The judge nodded, then returned his attention to the pages in front of him. “All of Mrs. Goodman’s personal possessions, clothes, jewelry, shoes, accessories, will be hers to keep—”
“Excuse me, Your Honor,” Marc interrupted.
The judge raised his gaze and arched his brow. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Goodman’s clothing was purchased for business functions so they’re company assets. Many of the items are unworn and still have value. I intend to return everything with a price tag and deposit the refunds to my business accounts.”
“Are you telling me that you wish to keep your wife’s clothing?” The judge’s eyes narrowed in concern. “This is a very unusual request, Mr. Goodman.”
Marc gestured calmly to the folder. “This very thing was addressed on page three of the prenuptial agreement, which Mrs. Goodman signed without coercion—”
“Take them,” Jill snapped, unable to control her temper. “If this is what three years of marriage has come to—bickering over clothes with price tags—you can have them. Take everything. I don’t care. All I want is my camera equipment.”
“Your camera equipment?” The judge slipped his reading glasses on and flipped the page. “I don’t see any camera equipment listed here.” Marc opened his mouth to speak, but the judge quieted him with the raise of his hand. “Let Mrs. Goodman answer the question.”
Jill continued. “I started taking photography classes on the weekends, before I met Marc—”
“Before you were married?” The judge raised his brows as he cut in.
“Yes. When Marc and I met, I was working as a photographer’s assistant on my days off because I wanted to start my own photography business.”
“And have you had success?”
“I’ve had a few freelance jobs,” Jill answered honestly. “But it’s a hard field to break into. I’m still working at it though.”
“And you want to continue this business?”
“I really do.”
“And you need your camera equipment to continue?”
“Yes.”
The judge turned to Marc and frowned. “Mr. Goodman, I fail to see how you or your company would have a use for Mrs. Goodman’s photography equipment, so I’ll ask you plainly: Is it your intention to prevent Mrs. Goodman from accessing gainful employment? Because if so, that will influence my final decision.”
Marc looked away, his jaw tight. “No, Your Honor. Of course not.”
“Good choice.” The judge smoothed his hand across the pad and began to write. “I’ll note that Mrs. Goodman will be awarded all her personal possessions, shoes, bags, jewelry, and clothing—those items without price tags,” he added wryly. “And all her camera equipment.”
He jotted a few quick notes. When he finished writing, he slipped off his reading glasses and reached for the pitcher of water. No one spoke as he poured himself a cup, the sound of water and the whoosh of the air conditioner the only noise in the silent room.
“Would either of you like a break before we continue?” the judge asked as he set his cup down.
Jill shook her head. “I don’t need a break.” The rest of her life would begin the moment she walked out of this conference room. True, it would be different from the one she’d had with Marc, but it would be hers to shape however she wanted. And she wanted it to start right away.
Marc shook his head as well, his expression unreadable.
The judge appeared not to notice. “Alright then. Let’s move on to the largest shared asset, the house in Summit. The report says you’ve lived there for the duration of your marriage?”
“We have, Your Honor, but I’m afraid the Summit house is also not a shared asset.” Marc leaned forward in his chair, deliberately casual though his eyes had darkened. She’d seen that look before and it never ended well.
He rested his hands on the table and laced his fingers together as if he had all the time in the world. A cat playing with a mouse. “The Summit house is strictly a business asset. It was designed and built as a model for the neighborhood we were developing at the time. But the development has been completed and the house has served its purpose. We sold it just last week. The new owners take possession at the end of the month.”
Jill attempted to smother her gasp but couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Judging from your wife’s reaction, I assume this is news to her?”
“I never kept anything from her, Your Honor,” Marc lied. “She’s never been interested in my work, but if she had been, I would gladly have shared the details. She knew the development was a business venture and that the house was part of it. I honestly don’t see how she can claim not to know. Buyers often toured the house, and I entertained business clients on the property. The whole site was maintained by my company.”
“Even so, if that house was your primary residence, Mrs. Goodman may be entitled to half the proceeds at closing. I don’t see the selling price in the financials.”
“Sadly, the house was sold at a loss,” Marc replied without emotion. “So I’m not required to disclose it.”
“This seems strangely one-sided to me, Mr. Goodman.”
“As was our marriage, Your Honor.” Marc looked away as he produced a frown.
Jill’s fingers curled around the edge of her seat as she remembered Phyllis’s warning to stay calm. Judges don’t like drama, she’d said, but even Phyllis would have taken a shot at Marc by now she thought.
“Mrs. Goodman didn’t care for young children because my own are grown and we have none between us. She didn’t cook or clean because I have staff to do that. Other than a vague interest in photography, she expressed no interest in a career that would produce income. Mrs. Goodman was content to spend the entirety of our marriage shopping, enjoying the luxuries I provided. In
