Chapter 7 - The Desperate Strike
By Friday afternoon, Mark was completely unmoored.
He sat inside his Audi in the parking lot of a strip mall, eating cold convenience-store sandwiches. His phone was blowing up—not with offers of help, but with automated alerts.
*Your card ending in 4092 has been declined.*
*Your credit line with Chase Bank has been suspended pending review.*
*Notice of default: Automotive lease account 8821.*
He had exactly two thousand, four hundred and twelve dollars remaining in his personal checking account. That was all that stood between him and total insolvency.
His rage, which had been simmering under layers of shock, finally boiled over into a blinding, irrational frenzy.
"She thinks she can destroy me?" he growled aloud to the empty car, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles cracked. "She thinks she can treat me like garbage and walk away with twenty million dollars and my child? I am the father! The courts don't care about military ranks! The family court protects fathers!"
He pulled out his phone and dialed the number of Arthur P. Snelling, a family law attorney whose face adorned billboards along I-95 under the slogan: *FATHERS' RIGHTS: WE FIGHT DIRTY.*
"Snelling Law," a sharp voice answered after two rings.
"I need an emergency hearing," Mark said, his voice frantic, manic. "My wife just gave birth. She kicked me out of our home. She's in the military, high-ranking, completely unstable, deployed all the time. She's keeping my daughter from me! She has millions hidden in secret trusts, and she's trying to strip me of everything!"
The lawyer on the other end paused. "Did you say millions?"
"Twenty-two million dollars," Mark said, leaning into the receiver. "And she forged documents to kick me out. I want full custody of my daughter. I want temporary spousal support. I want exclusive occupancy of the marital residence in Arlington. Can you get me in front of a judge on Monday?"
"If you have a twenty-thousand-dollar retainer, Mr. Whitmore, I can file an emergency ex-parte motion before the clerk's office closes at five today."
Mark felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. "I... I can give you two thousand today. The rest can come out of the temporary spousal support award! The judge will order her to pay my legal fees! She has twenty-two million!"
There was a long, dead silence on the line.
"Mr. Whitmore," Snelling's voice became businesslike and cold. "If your wife has twenty-two million dollars and high-ranking military status, she is represented by white-shoe corporate litigation teams who will bury me in motions before I can finish my morning coffee. I don't work on contingency for family law. Two thousand doesn't even cover the filing fee and the courier."
"Wait! Don't hang up!" Mark pleaded. "I have assets! I have... I have a luxury watch collection! I have an Audi!"
"Is the title clear on the Audi?"
"It's... it's a lease, but—"
*Click.*
The dial tone hummed in Mark's ear. He dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, burying his face in his hands as a dry, ragged sob tore through his chest.
He was drowning, and every time he kicked, the water only dragged him deeper.
Then, his phone chimed.
It was a text from an unknown number. He grabbed it frantically, hoping against hope that it was Chloe, or Richard Sterling apologizing, or Anna begging him to come home.
It was an automated notification from the Fairfax County Circuit Court electronic filing portal:
*CASE NO: CL-2024-008912*
*PLAINTIFF: COLONEL ANNA WHITMORE*
*DEFENDANT: MARK ANTHONY WHITMORE*
*MOTION: COMPREHENSIVE DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE, TERMINATION OF PARENTAL RIGHTS FOR CAUSE, AND RESTITUTION FOR FRAUD.*
*HEARING SCHEDULED: MONDAY, 0900 HOURS, COURTROOM 4B.*
Mark stared at the screen.
*Termination of parental rights.*
She wasn't just divorcing him. She wasn't just taking the money and the house. She was going to erase him from Victoria's life entirely.
May you like
"No," Mark whispered, his eyes widening with dangerous madness. "No, you don't. You don't get to erase me, Anna. I'll go to that courtroom. I'll tell the judge what you did. I'll tell them how you abandoned your marriage for your secret military games. I'll tell everyone who you really are."
***
