Page 87 of The Art of Scandal

Herman didn’t speak until Julia repeated her complaint about the number of lawyers in the room. “It’s actually only two,” he pointed out. “Matt is the client here. Not counsel.”

“Lucky him,” Julia said. They were forced to wait again as she shoved the files around, searching for the right one. “Ah. Here we go. I really do need an assistant. Do you guys know anyone who’s looking for a job?”

Herman smiled. “We pay pretty well here. I doubt you can afford them.” His head tilted slightly. “But you should know that, right? Your mother was one of our best employees.”

Julia’s bemused mask turned to ice before she pasted on a huge, carefree smile. “I’ll tell her you said hello. Now, let’s talk money.”

Matt laughed. “What money? She’s not getting a dime from me. Not a fucking penny.”

Ben lifted his hand. “Hold on, Matt—”

“No,youhold on.” Matt glared at his brother and then focused on Herman. “Why is he here? You know he’s on her side—”

“Enough,” Herman said. He looked at Rachel. “You can understand where Matt’s coming from. You made a deal and didn’t follow through.”

“No.” Matt leaned across the table. “She ran around town, screwing that tattooed meathead instead of doing what she promised. Supporting me and my campaign.”

“You had a mistress,” Rachel said. “Who you sent dick pics in the middle of your birthday party. I’m not sure you should be talking to me about broken promises.”

Matt’s eyes shifted to his father. Herman didn’t meet his gaze, but his shoulders were stiffer than when they started. Julia cleared her throat and slid a piece of paper across the table. “Let’s discuss this trust.”

“That’s Faith’s,” Matt said quickly. “It’s with a trustee, so you can’t touch it. She’ll get full control when she turns twenty-five.”

Rachel looked at Herman. “You have an excellent poker face.”

He gave a half shrug. “I don’t play poker. Gambling’s for people who never win.”

“How insightful,” Julia said flatly. “And also unethical. But who am I to throw stones, right?” She winked at Ben, who looked annoyed. Apparently, his professional respect only extended so far outside the courtroom.

“This is a waste of time,” Matt groaned. “You signed the prenup. You broke our deal. What are we even talking about?”

“Our marriage,” Rachel said. “Which we ruined with the selfish choices that brought us here. But we don’t have to keep making the same mistakes.”

Matt shifted in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to fight you,” she said. “We raised Faith together, and that should be the only thing that still connects us. Thegoodthing. Not this. Not you robbing me of the chance to build a life without you.”

“I’m not doing that. You can get a job, or go back to school—”

“I could have done those things years ago,” she said. “But I was too busy being your wife.”

Matt blinked and his brow furrowed. She knew him well enough to know when something finally resonated. She’d been there when he drafted his first platform. Her inbox was still filled with all the blog posts and articles she’d written in support of his campaign. She could open her calendar and show them an hour-by-hour accounting of how she’d prioritized his life over hers.

Rachel stared across the table and watched the truth slowly register on his face. Herman drummed his fingers, his unnatural calm finally caving to the long silence between them.

“My son is right,” Herman said. “Unless you plan to challenge the prenup—”

“We do.” Julia licked her thumb and slid the prenup across the table, to Herman this time. “See that signature there? That’s Ben as Rachel’s attorney of record.”

Herman’s jaw clenched and he gave Matt a sharp glare. “Goddamn it, son.”

Matt frowned. “What? What is it?”

“Good thing he’s a politician,” Julia said. “He’s not a very good lawyer. If Benji ishere”—she tapped the contract—“then he shouldn’t behere.” She pointed across the table to Ben. “That’s a conflict of interest.”

“It’s a weak argument,” Herman said. “Rachel consented, and Ben doesn’t have to be part of the legal team.”

“Sure, maybe.” Julia nodded. “A judge might go for that. Or, they might see it as two self-interested rich, powerful white men railroading a Black single mother into an unconscionable contract without adequate assistance of counsel.” She nodded. “So maybe not so weak.”

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