Page 47 of Demon On Deck

Back to the house I go, heading inside and swiping my purse, glancing around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything else. Satisfied I’m set, I climb back in the car and head out. Five minutes later, I’m pulling back into the driveway, again, to get the folder of financial records and legal documents I left on the couch. This time, when I climb inside the car, I rest my head against the steering wheel and breathe deeply.

“Coffee. Go get yourself coffee and something to eat, Kallie.” I say to myself as I leave home for the fourth time. On instinct, I head to the coffee shop where Evren and I would meet when we could for a break in the afternoon. My heart aches with longing and loss. I debate going to another coffee shop, but in the end, I head inside.

I place an order for my favorite caramel drink and Evren’s favorite pastry. A quick glance at the time tells me I have enough time to sit in the cafe to eat before my meeting. A barista drops off my order, and I inhale the rich aroma of roasted coffee and flaky, buttery pastry.

Tears gather in my eyes as I bring the delicious treat to my lips and take a bite. I close my eyes and hear Evren’s deep voice, his slight moan of appreciation as he ate this same pastry. The way he’d smile when he caught me looking at him. How he’d always feed me a bite even when I insisted I didn’t need one.

I let the memories wash over like a rogue wave. One that I embrace because even through the profound pain and grief, it feels like he’s here with me, wrapping me in his strong arms and supporting me.

Wiping my tears, I finish my food, take my drink to go, and head to my meeting.

Three hours later, I’m finally able to sit down and talk with Neeve. She felt terrible for getting stuck in court and had wanted to reschedule, but there was just no time that worked for either of us other than today.

“I’m so sorry, Kallie,” Neeve says again, spreading out my file in front of her.

“It happens. I’m just sorry there was no way to reschedule,” I say, wringing my hands in my lap nervously. I was honestly slightly relieved by the wait. It put off the shitshow that was about to be unleashed for just a little while longer. Unfortunately, my reprieve was now up.

“Ok,” she says, leveling me with her gaze. “It’s not great, but it’s not hopeless.”

“Ok” is all I can manage.

She picks up the pile of financial documents I brought in. “These are okay, but knowing Matt, he’ll have his lawyer question them.”

”They’re bank statements.”

“I know,” she says gently. “But we live in a digital world filled with deep fakes and AI. It’s easily argued that you could have faked these when you turned them over. He could also claim that, because you have a long history with your bank, the documents were altered in your favor.”

“Fuck,” I whisper as I slump back into the chair I’m sitting in.

She nods and picks up another document.

“The other problem is that Matt is claiming you withheld the contract information for the grocery store contracts. Based on that, he argues that he did not have a comprehensive understanding of the value of Bloomhaus. Had he been aware of the profit that Bloomhaus generated from the grocery store partnerships, he claims he would have contested your request to have sole ownership in the business.”

Neeve kept talking, but the words were blurring together. I held up a hand, and she immediately stopped speaking.

“I speak floral, not legal. My brain is rapidly shutting down because your words are implying he might actually have a case. Tell me in the simplest of terms what’s happening and how to fight it.”

Her lawyer mask, fierce and fighting, drops for a moment, and she gives me a soft nod.

“Basically, Matt is claiming you had these partnerships in place before the divorce was settled. Given that the initial agreements were made verbally, it’s hard to disprove his contention that the contracts were actually in place before the date you recorded. The easiest way to disprove that is by hiring a forensic accountant.”

“ Forensic accountant?” I question as my head spins in circles, exorcism-style.

Neeve nods. “Think of it as a financial Sherlock Holmes. They get unrestricted access to all of your financial accounts. Everything from savings to checking, stocks, bonds, and anything else, personal or professional. They comb through every detail and verify that all your financial history is on the up and up. In this case, I’d suggest handing over everything from when you opened Bloomhaus until now. That’s complete financial disclosure.”

The thought of someone seeing all of the struggles, many of which were courtesy of the very shithole of an ex-husband dragging me back to court, makes me very much want to projectile vomit—also spinning head, exorcism-style.

Unclenching my hands and wiping my sweaty palms on my dress, I swallow down my fear, remembering my conversation with Grey from a few days ago.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” I say with determination and a driving will to fight the micro dick.

“I know you don’t, hon,” Neeve says gently. “The thing is, it’s expensive.”

“How expensive?” I ask with a sinking feeling in my gut.

Neeve cringes and averts her eyes. “Three to six hundred.”

I exhale the breath I’d been holding. Not as bad as I thought.