She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 117

(Natasha)

I read the third paragraph again. The words blur, but the black ink refuses to change.

The document is printed on heavy, cream-colored stock.

The header belongs to a ruthless Century City family law firm.

I don't care about the branding.

I care about the specific, calculated angle of the attack.

They aren't going after my character. They aren't going after my finances. They’re going after my body.

“…due to the Petitioner’s documented history of severe medical incapacitation, there are significant concerns regarding the physical stamina required to manage a medically complex infant. The Respondent questions the Petitioner’s long-term physical stability…”

I drop the paper on my desk.

I don't cry.

The anger is too bright and sharp for tears.

It feels like swallowing glass.

This is Chase.

It’s not just a lawyer stamping his name on a generic defense.

Chase signed off on this strategy.

He knows exactly what the illness took from me.

How the steroids bloated my face, ruined my joints, and almost stripped away my identity.

He knows I fought my way back from the edge of a coma for our daughter.

And he just paid a legal team a thousand dollars an hour to type it out and use my survival as a weapon against me.

The door to my office swings open.

I look up, desperate for Mason.

I need his sharp, analytical brain.

I need him to read this document and immediately map out a counter-offensive that will make Chase’s lawyers choke on their own paperwork.

Mason walks in. But he isn’t alone.

A woman follows him through the door.

She’s young, beautiful in a very expensive way that’s calculated to look effortless, and holding a massive iced matcha.

She has oversized sunglasses pushed up into perfectly styled hair and is wearing a matching athletic set that costs way more than it has any reason to.

"Natasha," Mason says.

His tone is casual, completely at odds with the warfare currently sitting on my desk.

"This is Chloe. We were just grabbing lunch down the street."

Chloe smiles. It’s bright and vacant.

"Natasha! Mason talks about you literally all the time. It’s so great to meet you."

I look at her, and a massive, irrational spike of irritation hits me right in the chest.

I’m not jealous.

Mason is my best friend.

But Mason is brilliant.

He builds amazing corporate strategies and dismantles billionaires for fun.

He reads SEC filings like a second language.

Why is he walking into my office with a woman who looks like she gets overwhelmed by the menu at a juice bar?

"Hi," I say flatly.

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