My husband sat in court in a three-thousand-dollar suit beside the “Butcher of Broadway,” mocking me like I was already broken because he’d frozen my accounts, cut off my cards, and left me alone long enough to lose by default… but just as the judge exhaled, lifted the gavel, and looked ready to hand him everything, the courtroom doors flew open

“My client is simply frustrated because the matter has been prolonged,” Wesley said as he put a restraining hand on Hudson’s forearm. The judge told Wesley to keep his client’s emotions inaudible before turning back to me with a look of pity that I had dreaded most.

“Mrs. Reeves, the court began ten minutes ago, and if your attorney is not present soon, I will have to proceed on the assumption that you are appearing for yourself,” the judge explained. I begged for just a few more minutes as Hudson leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a smug look on his face.

“She is stalling because she has nobody,” Hudson said loudly enough for the judge to hear, though he pretended he was not speaking to the bench. The judge snapped at him to be quiet, but Hudson had already warmed to his cruelty and looked directly at me.

“I offered you a generous settlement last week, Maya, and you should have taken the fifty thousand dollars and the car because I told you no one was going to save you,” he said. It was the first time he had said my name all morning, and it sounded like a claim of ownership that made me feel something split open inside my chest.