Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(7)

Except now that I was actually telling the story, there was no need to pretend to cry. The pain of what Roger had done welled up. I closed my eyes, and a tear trickled down my cheek. “He told me he was taking the inheritance my grandparents had left me, and he was selling the house they left me to my parents—for a premium price, no less. He had already lined up to sell my business to a woman who had no desire to take care of it. She wants it for spite and nothing else.”

“Do you have proof that the property in question was deeded to you?” the judge asked.

I nodded and pulled out a thick file. “Everything in here is from my grandparents, stating that I am the legal heir. You can see that the deposit went not into a joint account but an account only in my name set up by my grandparents. The same for the house, which was deeded in my name shortly before I fell ill.” I paused, wishing I had similar documentation for the bakery.

Judge Watts stared at me, a look of horror etched on his face. “My dear, what did he plan to do with all the money after he took it from you?”

I held my hands clasped together in front of me. “Open a dog-grooming business with his girlfriend.”

“And cats,” Roger spit out. “Dogs and cats.”

As if that helped.

Judge Watts’s eyebrows shot up. “And cats? You think you need all that money for grooming dogs and cats?”

Roger, given free rein to talk, hurried to explain. “Yes, we need to have rent money, and Barbie needs to be situated right. We are going to replace her vehicle and get her proper equipment so she can be the best pet groomer that Seattle has seen.”

I wasn’t so sure giving that much detail was going to help Roger’s case. The perfect reason to keep my mouth shut and let him ramble.

“The grooming business is expensive to get going; we’ve been talking about it for years.”

For years? If I didn’t know better, I’d think that maybe Roger had been in on getting me sick in the first place.

The judge rolled his eyes. “You realize you’re being taken for a ride? It is beyond me how you landed not one but two beautiful women when you are obviously short more than a few bricks in the load you carry.”

Behind me, Tad choked on a laugh, and I wanted to smack him. I didn’t want him to distract Judge Watts from his train of thought, a train that was headed in the direction I wanted. The last thing I needed was for him to think I had laughed, that I was being disrespectful to him.

I was going to get a proper divorce, and I wanted to cheer. The system did work. I was going to get justice even though I was a Super Duper. Maybe this would mean something to the rest of the supernatural world, but even if it didn’t, it meant something to me. Roger wasn’t going to be rewarded for being a jerk. Sheer giddiness spooled through me like spun sugar floating in the air, and just as sweet.

“I suspect one truly loved you, and the other is in it for the money. I’ll let you guess which one,” Judge Watts said with a pointed look at Barbie.

Barbie raised an eyebrow at him, and tipped her chin high, but said nothing.

“And as I see it,” he continued, “Mrs. Budrene is entitled to all of her inheritance, which, by these papers here, is hers. The house, the inheritance, and half of all joint marital assets.”

Barbie let out a little cry, turned, and stomped from the room. “We’re done, Roger, done!”

Well, that was that, then. I fought the smile that wanted to steal over my lips.

Judge Watts continued to rifle through the papers, shaking his head at a rather stunned-looking Roger. “Perhaps with your next choice of woman, you’ll look for someone who isn’t in it for your money.”

“Is the bakery half mine?” Roger asked, and I bristled. He would go for the throat.

The judge glanced at me. “The bakery?”

I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Vanilla and Honey is the bakery I opened. I borrowed money from my parents to do so, and I paid it back.”

“Did Mr. Budrene work at the bakery?” Judge Watts looked at the papers.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Did he do the accounting? The business marketing? The ordering and receiving?”

“No.”

“Did he do anything at the bakery?’

I shook my head. “No, he didn’t.”

The Judge’s lips pressed to a thin line. “So he milked you for all you had while he bounced with his girlfriend behind your back?”

The crowd tittered softly. It felt like they were laughing at me, and I struggled not to burst into tears. Or cringe. Or lash out. I looked at the floor; it was all I could do.

“I believe so.” I made myself lift my head back up. I was not to blame for this.

The judge nodded. “Taking the length of your marriage into consideration”—he shuffled some papers and peered at something—“you will have to buy him out of the bakery, because from what I see here, this is community property. You acquired the bakery during your marriage. And so as to be fair and equitable, as is the law of our state, I will award you each half of the business. Furthermore, it is my decision therefore to grant the divorce between Alena and Roger, equally splitting those assets that were jointly acquired, along with the debts that were also jointly acquired, and awarding Mrs. Budrene—”

“She had the Aegrus virus,” Roger blurted out. “She didn’t look like this before, and she’s a supernatural now. Some sort of snake thing.”