Lily muttered something sharp enough to catch the bailiff’s attention and immediately stopped when he looked her way.
Then came the ruling.
It landed exactly as it should have.
Divorce granted.
House and primary assets retained solely by me.
Ethan entitled to his remaining personal belongings and his vehicle, along with exclusive financial responsibility for said vehicle.
Because I had paid for his professional certification program during the marriage—two years of coursework he had since used to bolster his salary—he was ordered to pay six months of modest alimony at five hundred dollars per month.
Not because I needed the money. Because principle sometimes deserves a number.
The gavel cracked.
Final. Clean. Official.
Relief moved through me so fast it almost felt like dizziness.
Across the room, Ethan looked gutted. Rebecca buried her face in her hands. Margaret clutched at her pearls with such commitment to type that if she had collapsed dramatically to the floor I would not have been remotely surprised. Lily glared at me with the helpless rage of a woman who had always assumed meanness was enough to win and was now discovering institutions preferred documentation.