Mr. Sterling, is it true you're leaving your wife penniless? Richard, who is the new woman? He breezed past security and took the elevator to the 14th floor. The hallway outside courtroom 4B was quiet.

Richard checked his Rolex, 8:55 a.m. She's late, Richard muttered. Probably terrified to show her face. She'll be here, Bradley said, checking his notes. If she doesn't show, we win by default.

Either way, we win. Just then, the elevator chimed. The doors slid open and Catherine Sterling stepped out. Richard blinked. He had expected her to look haggard, red-eyed, perhaps wearing something frumpy or overly modest to garner sympathy.

Instead, Katherine looked expensive. She was wearing a cream-colored pencil skirt suit that was tailored to within an inch of its life. It was simple, but the cut screamed haute couture. Her hair was pulled back in a severe, elegant chignon. She wore no jewelry except for a pair of small pearl earrings.

But it was the man walking beside her who drew Richard's attention. He was old, yes. Elias Finch looked like a stiff wind might blow him over. He wore a tweed suit that looked like it smelled of mothballs, and he carried a battered leather briefcase that had seen better days in the Nixon administration. He walked with a slight limp, relying on a cane with a silver handle.

Richard snorted. Look at that, he whispered to Bradley. Grandpa brought his walking stick. This is going to be a massacre. Catherine didn't look at Richard.

She didn't acknowledge his presence. She walked past him with a serene, cool expression. Her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. She held the door open for her elderly lawyer and they entered the courtroom. Showtime.

Richard said, buttoning his jacket. Inside the courtroom was stark and imposing. The wood paneling was dark, the lighting fluorescent. Richard took his seat at the plaintiff's table, spreading his arms wide. Catherine and Mr.

Finch sat at the defendant's table. Mr. Finch began slowly unpacking his briefcase, retrieving a single thin manila folder and a thermos. A thermos? Bradley whispered, shaking his head.

Unbelievable. All rise, the bailiff boomed. The Honorable Judge Arthur Pendleton presiding. Richard sat up straighter. Judge Pendleton was known as a by-the-book judge.

He was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a permanent scowl. He didn't like drama and he didn't like time wasters. Perfect for enforcing a contract. Judge Pendleton took the bench, rustling his robes. He adjusted his glasses and looked down at the docket.

Sterling versus Sterling, the judge read. Petition for dissolution of marriage and division of assets. He looked up. I trust both parties are present. Richard Sterling.

Present, your honor. Bradley Pearson said, standing up smoothly. Represented by Bradley Pearson of Pearson, Specter and Associates. Mr. Finch stood up slowly, his knees popping audibly in the quiet room.

Catherine Sterling, present, Your Honor, represented by Elias Finch. The judge peered at Mr. Finch. Mr. Finch, I haven't seen you in this district in quite some time.

I've been semi-retired, Your Honor, Finch said, his voice raspy, but surprisingly clear. Enjoying the quiet life, but for Mrs. Sterling, I made an exception. Very well, the judge said. Let's proceed.

Mr. Pearson, you filed the motion for summary judgment based on a prenuptial agreement. Yes, Your Honor, Bradley said, stepping into the aisle. He was in his element. The facts of this case are simple.

10 years ago, prior to their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling signed a comprehensive prenuptial agreement. Both parties had independent counsel. The agreement clearly stipulates a separation of assets. Mr.

Sterling's business interests, real estate holdings, and liquid capital are his sole property. We are asking the court to enforce the document as written and grant the divorce decree immediately. Bradley walked to the bench and handed a thick document to the clerk. Exhibit A, Your Honor, the signed agreement. Judge Pendleton took the document and began to leaf through it.

The silence in the room was heavy. Richard tapped his fingers on the table, watching Katherine. She was staring straight ahead, her posture perfect, her face a mask. "Why aren't you crying? " Richard thought, annoyed. "You should be begging. " Mr.

Finch, the judge said, not looking up from the papers, "Do you contest the validity of this prenuptial agreement? " Mr. Finch stood up again. He didn't move to the aisle. He stayed behind his table, leaning on his cane. "We do not contest that the signature belongs to my client, your honor. " Finch said.

Richard smirked. It was over. "However," Finch continued, "we contest the enforceability of the agreement based on the doctrine of unconscionability and significant non-disclosure of material facts at the time of signing. " Bradley Pearson laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Objection, your honor. This is a standard stall tactic.

The agreement was drafted by top-tier firms. Unconscionability is a desperate reach. " "Mr. Pearson," the judge snapped, "let him finish. " Finch smiled, a slow, dry expression. "Furthermore, your honor, there is a specific clause in the prenup, clause 19, paragraph three, the integrity-of-lineage clause. " Richard frowned. He leaned toward Bradley.