I gaped at the email on my desk, my mouth almost touching the table as I read.

This cannot be right, I thought, shaking my head in disgust. He lied to me! All this time, he’s been lying to me!

My head was beginning to pound and I reached for the phone, dialing out the number I had already memorized.

“Ryerson Sterling’s office.”

“Mr. Sterling, please,” I ordered, my palms beginning to sweat as I recognized the gravity of what I was seeing.

“Who’s calling please?”

“Yvette Viera.”

“He is out of the office. May I take a message?”

“Is he available by cell today?” I demanded. I had to get him to the office immediately.

“I believe he is.”

“I’ll try him there,” I replied. “Thanks, Anita.”

I replaced the receiver and dialed out again but before it could ring, there was a knock on my office door.

“Not now!”

Draven opened the door anyway and peeked in, his face ridiculously tanned.

“I said, not now!” I snapped.

“Happy new year!” he called happily as he entered.

There was something different about him, something that had nothing to do with the warm glow on his broad form.

“Happy new year. Get out. I’m busy,” I growled.

“I see you got my email,” Draven drawled, flopping into a chair and examining his nails.

I wondered where he had been over the Christmas holidays.

Probably concocting this insanity from Ryerson’s yacht with Angeline in Barbados. Well, I hope he enjoyed it because that’s the last time Angeline is ever going to see that boat unless she gets a job on the crew which she might well have to do by the time I’m finished with her. What a sneaky, underhanded witch. And Draven!

“You expect me to believe this?” I spat, gesturing at the screen.

Draven shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“You can believe whatever you want,” he replied. “But I thought your eyes were good, Yve. It’s all right there in color no less; your boy is a philandering pig.”

The words said aloud caused me to shiver.

I could not imagine Ryerson Sterling touching a woman, not his wife, especially not after all the heart to heart talks we’d had over the past few months.

“Isn’t it interesting that Angeline never thought to bring this up until now and suddenly she has pictures and dates?”

“She wanted to keep this under wraps unless it was absolutely necessary to use.”

I laughed loudly.

“Your client, a woman who has spent the last three months dragging her estranged husband’s name through the mud, accusing him of hiding assets and being ‘emotionally unavailable’? She wanted to keep this under wraps? There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark, Drave.”

My eyes bored into him and I saw him shift slightly.

He’s lying.

I decided to call him out.

“Why is this coming out now?” I insisted. “Why didn’t she say something before if this is true?”

Draven sighed deeply as if he was pained by the question.

“Fine,” he relented. “She wanted to lay it out on the table, but I told her to wait. I told her…”

I folded my arms under my breasts and stared at him.

“You told her what?” I demanded.

“I told her that you were reasonable, no matter what your reputation. I felt sorry for your client. I didn’t see the need to bring something this scandalous to light.”

I still didn’t believe him.

“How magnanimous of you,” I purred, rising to walk around the side of the desk, leaning back to study his face pensively. “Why didn’t you do this months ago? We could have wrapped this up neatly and sent it on its way before Santa even left the Pole.”

Draven tried to hold my gaze, but he was not doing a good job.

He had never been any match for me in a staring contest.

“Bad timing on my part,” he replied simply, rising. Suddenly he didn’t seem so smug as he shuffled toward the door.

“The pictures are real, aren’t they, Draven?” I asked, and he whirled around.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he growled.

I had hit a nerve.

“I think you know exactly what it means,” I retorted. “If you’re knowingly admitting fake evidence into these proceedings, you will be disbarred.”

His face seemed to lose some of its color, but he spun back toward the door.

“I suggest you tell your client to accept our final offer because if this goes to a judge, I don’t need to tell you how much sympathy your client will garner.”

He stormed out and a queasy feeling tickled my stomach.

Suborning perjury? Draven would never do that, I thought but what other explanation did I have for what I was seeing?

It makes no sense that this would come out now. There is no way that Angeline would hold back, no matter what Draven says.

I had to get to the root of the pictures and talk to Ryerson before I put a billionaire in the poorhouse.

---

“That isn’t me,” he said flatly, and I groaned inwardly.

“It is you,” I sighed. “When were these taken, Ryerson? And why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He looked at me, his face a compilation of consternation and shock.

“That can’t be me!” he insisted, pressing his face to the photos. “I have never been in that room or with that woman. But that does look a lot like me, you’re right about that.”

A spark of hope lit my chest.

“Are you sure, Ryerson?” I asked gently, taking the picture from him. “You’re certain you never got drunk one night and ended up in a hotel room or – “

“I don’t drink,” he replied. “And I have never woken up without being able to recall the previous day’s events so that eliminates being drugged I would say.”

I nodded, exhaling slowly.

“Then these pictures are photoshopped,” I said, tossing the incriminating photo onto my desk and sitting back.

“Why?”

The question was so quiet and so plaintive, I almost missed it.

“Pardon?” I asked, raising my body to look at him. “Why what?”

He stared at me with a creased brow and shook his head uncomprehendingly.

“Why any of this?” he asked and for the first time, I heard raw emotion in his voice. “Why after twenty years is she not only doing this but doing it in such an underhanded, awful way?”

Sympathy for him filled me but I had no response for him.

Because she’s a selfish bitch, I thought. Because all she cares about is your money. Because marriages have less than a fifty/fifty chance of working out.

Naturally, I said none of those things and made a commiserating noise instead.

“I’m sorry, Rye,” I said tenderly. “I really am but sometimes these things work out for the best. I know you feel like you’ve wasted a lot of time – “

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted, his brows raising in surprise. “Of course I don’t!”

I was shocked into silence as I waited for him to finish.

“A marriage is never a waste of time. It is a journey, an adventure. It is having children and falling in love over and over again, if not with every morning you wake up together, at least with every anniversary.”

He grew quiet and I felt insurmountably sad for him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did not love your wife.”

“I do love my wife,” he said gruffly and suddenly he looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You remind me a lot of Angie.”

I had never been more insulted in my life, but I expertly hid my feelings, even though I tasted blood inside my mouth when I chomped down on my cheek.

“You are both stubborn, unafraid to take what you want. It was one of the first things I learned to admire about Angie. I had never met a woman like her. But you know what they say…”

I waited.

“…what draws you to a person is apt to split you apart.”

I chuckled softly.

“Too much of a good thing, I suppose,” I replied lightly.

He snorted.

“I am saying this as if I am without flaws,” he sighed. “Angie always said I was too easy going, too laid back.”

“I’m sure that you wouldn’t be where you are today without putting your foot down now and again,” I protested but suddenly as I looked at his aging face, I was reminded of someone and the realization made my heart skip a beat.

I always teased Draven about being too lassies-faire, even though he had that infamous temper. I wonder if Ryerson has a temper too.

“It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside,” Ryerson continued as if he was reading my mind. “It comes out at the wrong time and disproportionately.”

I studied his face and then said something which shocked me.

“Have you talked to Angeline? Really talked to her? Or are you just going through this because you don’t want conflict and you think this is what she wants?”

It was not something I would recommend to a client. After all, it wasn’t my place to play marriage counselor.

He eyed me, and I could see he was considering my words.

A hard look crossed his face.

“The time for talking has passed,” he said shortly. “If she’s willing to go so far as to plant evidence of an affair, I don’t have any interest in having a rational discussion with her.”

But what about before? Before things began to snowball? Why did you just let her walk away without a fight?

I nodded, shoving the soft feelings from me.

My job wasn’t to question the way he handled his life.

My job was to ensure that Angeline didn’t make off with his fortune.

“I will authenticate these photographs but if what you’re saying is true, your only problem will be whether to press charges against her or not. This borderline on blackmail and perjury.”

Ryerson rose stiffly from his chair and I knew the meeting was coming to an end.

“Do what you have to do,” he said quietly. “Keep me posted.”

“Rye…”

He glanced over his shoulder as he reached for his coat.

“This doesn’t need to drag on forever. I can see it's taking its toll on you,” I said delicately. “Maybe we should consider a compromise instead of continuing this rampant tug-of-war.”

His thick eyebrows shot up and he stared at me in surprise.

“I would not have thought that you of all people would suggest that,” he replied slowly. “Maybe you’re not as much like Angeline as I thought.”

I hope not, I groaned. I am not angry and bitter. I wouldn’t put my ex through the ringer for no good reason…would I?

I loathed that I was questioning myself and I was miffed that Ryerson Sterling had started my self-doubt.

When he left, I perched on the edge of my desk, staring out my window into the parking lot below.

But maybe I am like Angeline after all. Didn’t I walk out on Draven without a real explanation, with only a note and instructions not to call me?

My eyes narrowed as a shot of insecurity flooded through my body.

Was I selfish too? Am I selfish now?

A dozen questions began to flood me, and I tried to shake them off, wondering why this particular case was filling me with such doubt.

Maybe Ryerson was right; maybe I was just like his soon-to-be ex-wife.

But I saw that it went beyond that.

Ryerson Sterling reminded me of Draven also.

Well, that settles it then, I thought firmly, slipping off the desk and flopping back down into my swivel chair. If I am Angeline and he is Ryerson, then we did the right thing walking away from one another six years ago or else this could have been us in twenty years.

I refocused my attention on the computer before me and again forced myself to ignore the nagging voice in the back of my mind.

Except you didn’t walk away from one another. You left Draven like a coward and you never gave your marriage a shot in the first place.

My hands flew over the keyboard and although it took every fiber of my being, I redirected my consternation into an email.

I was second guessing myself and I needed to get my head on straight for the benefit of my clients.

Mr. Archer,

I have sent the pictures you have submitted to an independent lab for authenticity analysis.

If they prove to be doctored, Mr. Sterling may choose to pursue criminal charges in this matter.

As a professional courtesy, I am giving you an opportunity to remove the pictures as evidence from the suit by tomorrow morning at nine am.

If you do not, and there is false evidence submitted to the courts, I will also have no choice but to approach the ethics committee with your conduct and open an investigation into this matter.

I look forward to your prompt response.

---

Sincerely,

---

Yvette Viera

---

I didn’t give myself a chance to think about the threat I was imposing, and I sent it off, my pulse racing slightly.

I waited for the feeling of smug satisfaction to overcome me, but it never did.

It was almost as if I had done the right thing but for the wrong reason.

Don’t be ridiculous, I chided myself. They are doing the wrong thing. I am setting things right. Angeline must be stopped. She’s spinning out of control in her anger.

But for the first time since I had laid eyes on Angeline Sterling, I felt a flash of empathy toward her.

And the sensation filled me with a dreadful understanding of myself.