Chapter 3 - My Little HobbyBy nine o’clock, Julian’s biggest mistake had a case number.
Rachel met me at the courthouse with coffee in one hand and a seventy-page binder in the other.
“You slept?”
“Three hours.”
“Luxury.”
She handed me the coffee.
“Julian’s attorney requested an emergency hearing.”
“For what?”
“He claims you may dissipate marital business assets.”
I stared at her.
“My assets?”
“Yes.”
“He stole hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“Yes.”
“He forged my signature.”
“Allegedly.”
“Rachel.”
“I’m your lawyer. I’m required to love that word.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
That helped.
The hearing was scheduled for eleven.
Julian arrived at ten forty-six with Vanessa.
That surprised even Rachel.
“Bold,” she murmured.
Vanessa wore a white pantsuit and oversized sunglasses as if she were attending brunch instead of the opening battle in someone else’s divorce.
Julian wore navy.
His courtroom costume.
Expensive suit.
Perfect tie.
Concerned expression.
He had always known how to look reasonable.
The first time I saw him after the haircut, his eyes went directly to my head.
Tasha had transformed the butchered mess into a polished shoulder-length bob.
It suited me.
I hadn’t expected that.
Apparently Julian hadn’t either.
His mouth tightened.
Vanessa whispered something.
I walked past them without stopping.
“Nice haircut,” Julian called.
Rachel touched my elbow.
“Keep moving.”
Inside the courtroom, Julian’s attorney argued first.
His name was Grant Holloway, a polished man in his fifties whose confidence suggested his client had omitted several important details.
“Mr. Marquez is deeply concerned,” Holloway told the judge, “that his wife has taken unilateral control over substantial marital enterprises.”
Judge Elaine Porter looked over her glasses.
“What enterprises?”
“Three luxury salons operating under Bell & Rose Holdings.”
The judge looked at me.
Then Rachel.
Rachel stood.
“Your Honor, opposing counsel appears to be operating under the same misunderstanding as his client.”
Holloway frowned.
Rachel handed documents to the clerk.
“Bell & Rose Holdings is separate property. Its original capital originated from Ms. Marquez’s separate inheritance, and its chain of ownership has been maintained independently.”
Holloway leaned toward Julian.
Julian whispered rapidly.
Rachel continued.
“Furthermore, Mr. Marquez has never been an officer, director, manager, shareholder, guarantor, or employee.”
The judge flipped through papers.
“Mr. Holloway?”
He stood slowly.
“My client informs me marital labor contributed to the appreciation.”
Rachel turned.
“What labor?”
Julian whispered again.
Holloway’s expression changed.
Just a fraction.
“I’ll need to supplement the record.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Then Rachel placed another document on the table.
“We do, however, agree that financial preservation orders are appropriate.”
Julian looked relieved.
Poor man.
Rachel continued.
“We ask the court to freeze extraordinary withdrawals from all joint accounts and prohibit either party from transferring, encumbering, concealing, or disposing of property outside normal living and business expenses.”
Judge Porter nodded.
“That seems reasonable.”
Rachel wasn’t finished.
“We also request that the order expressly include any existing or attempted liens involving Ms. Marquez’s separate property.”
Holloway stood.
“Your Honor—”
“Do you object to preserving property, Counsel?”
He sat back down.
“No.”
“Then we agree.”
The judge signed.
The first door closed on Julian.
The second came twenty minutes later.
Outside the courtroom, Holloway intercepted Rachel.
“Counsel, a word.”
They stepped several feet away.
Julian stared at me.
“You think you’re clever.”
“I think my lawyer is clever.”
“You’ve poisoned her against me.”
I almost smiled.
“Rachel bills four hundred fifty dollars an hour. Her opinions are independent.”
Vanessa made a disgusted sound.
“You’re enjoying this.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
That was true.
I wasn’t enjoying it.
I was grieving.
The problem with leaving a cruel marriage is that freedom and heartbreak can exist in the same body.
I remembered Julian at twenty-nine, standing outside a taco truck in the rain because he had forgotten an umbrella.
I remembered him proposing beside Lady Bird Lake.
I remembered our first apartment, where the air conditioner barely worked and we slept on the living-room floor during August because it was cooler.
Those memories were real.
So was the man standing in front of me now.
That was the difficult part.
People wanted monsters to have always been monsters.
Sometimes they weren’t.
Sometimes they became entitled one compromise at a time.
Julian leaned closer.
“You are not taking my house.”
“My mother’s house.”
“We renovated it together.”
“With money from my business.”
His jaw tightened.
“You wouldn’t have that business if I hadn’t supported you.”
I stared at him.
“You called it a hobby for ten years.”
“I paid the mortgage while you played salon owner.”
“No.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“I paid the mortgage.”
He laughed.
“You couldn’t have.”
“Peter has the records.”
Julian’s smile disappeared.
Vanessa looked between us.
“How much do those places actually make?”
Julian snapped, “Not now.”
That told me something interesting.
He had lied to her too.
Rachel returned.
“Ready?”
“What did Holloway want?”
“To know whether we’re willing to mediate.”
Julian stared.
Rachel smiled pleasantly.
“We are not.”
We left.
By noon, Bell & Rose was busy.
Clients had already heard something.
Austin gossip moved faster than light when it involved money, marriage, and hair.
But my staff had been instructed to say nothing.
At one thirty, I gathered the managers from all three salons in our downtown conference room.
Tasha.
Miguel.
Erin.
People who had helped me build the company.
I told them the truth.
Not every ugly detail.
Enough.
“My marriage is ending,” I said. “Julian may try to interfere with the business. He has no authority here. If he contacts you, vendors, payroll, or clients, forward everything to legal.”
Miguel crossed his arms.
“Did he really cut your hair?”
I nodded.
The room went quiet.
Erin whispered, “I will hit him with a flat iron.”
“No.”
“A small one?”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“No violence.”
Tasha pointed at me.
“She means it.”
“I do.”
I looked around the table.
“I am not turning this company into a battlefield. We keep working. We take care of clients. We take care of each other.”
There were nods.
Then Erin asked:
“Does he know you own everything?”
“Now he does.”
Miguel grinned.
“I would have paid admission to see that.”
At three sixteen, Peter called.
The Vantage loan had funded.
One-point-four million of the approved two million had already been advanced.
Based partly on Julian’s representation of my salons.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“The lender will investigate.”
“And Vantage?”
Peter hesitated.
“I pulled public filings and creditor records. Elena, Vantage is in trouble.”
“How much trouble?”
“Potentially fatal.”
Julian’s company wasn’t thriving.
It was drowning.
He owed subcontractors.
Two developments were behind schedule.
A major investor had quietly withdrawn.
There were tax liens.
And Julian had borrowed aggressively to keep everything looking successful.
His luxury car.
His club membership.
His parties.
Vanessa’s apartment.
All of it balanced on debt.
“He didn’t steal our money because he was spoiling his mistress,” I said.
“Not entirely,” Peter replied. “I think he was using some of it to keep Vantage alive.”
My phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
“Ms. Marquez?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Daniel Reed. I’m general counsel for Frontier Capital.”
The lender.
“I believe we need to discuss a financial statement submitted by your husband.”
Rachel happened to be across the table.
I put him on speaker.
“What about it?”
“Mr. Marquez represented Bell & Rose Holdings as part of his available marital asset base.”
“He has no ownership interest.”
A long silence.
“None?”
“None.”
Rachel added, “This is Rachel Kim, counsel for Ms. Marquez. All further questions should include me.”
Daniel’s tone changed.
“Understood.”
He asked for documentation.
Rachel promised to send it.
After the call ended, she stared at me.
“Day one.”
“What?”
“You gave him five days.”
I had forgotten.
“It’s only been one?”
“Technically less.”
I looked through the conference-room window at the salon floor below.
My staff moved between chairs.
Dryers hummed.
Clients laughed.
Everything Julian had dismissed was alive beneath me.
At five o’clock, the front desk called upstairs.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a woman here asking for you.”
“Name?”
“She won’t give one.”
Rachel frowned.
“Don’t go down alone.”
We walked together.
A woman stood near reception.
Mid-forties.
Blond hair.
Expensive handbag.
Terrified eyes.
When she saw Rachel beside me, she almost left.
“Are you Elena Marquez?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“My name is Caroline Avery.”
I didn’t recognize it.
Then she said:
“My husband invested in Vantage.”
Every instinct sharpened.
“How can I help you?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You can’t.”
She looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“But maybe I can help you.”
She opened her handbag and removed a flash drive.
“Julian doesn’t just have a mistress.”
Rachel became very still.
Caroline held the drive toward me.
“He has partners.”
“What kind of partners?”
“The kind who don’t know they’re partners.”
I took the drive.
May you like
Caroline whispered:
“Your husband has been lying to investors for years.”
Related Stories
