Chapter 9 - The Final Judgment
The final divorce and asset division hearing took place six months later. It was a mere formality.
Robert’s legal defense had completely crumbled. The federal authorities, acting on the evidence we provided,
had indicted him on multiple counts of corporate embezzlement, tax evasion, and wire fraud. His high-priced
lawyers had abandoned him when his personal accounts dried up, replaced by a public defender who looked
completely out of his depth.
Marla was also absent. The moment Robert’s assets were frozen and his indictment was announced, she had
packed her bags and left for Miami, taking whatever jewelry she could carry. However, because the diamond
bracelet and other luxury items had been purchased with embezzled corporate funds, the FBI had confiscated them
as stolen assets.
Robert sat at the defense table alone, wearing a cheap, ill-fitting suit. He had aged ten years in six months. His
hair was messy, his eyes hollow, his hands trembling.
Judge Harrison did not mince words.
"Mr. Richardson," she said, looking down at him from the bench. "In my thirty years on the bench, I have rarely
seen a case of such egregious financial fraud and personal cruelty. You attempted to systematically strip your wife
of forty-eight years of her dignity, her health, and her livelihood, all while funding a lavish lifestyle with stolen
corporate funds."
She turned her gaze to me, her expression softening. "The court hereby awards Mrs. Evelyn Richardson one
hundred percent of the marital estate, including the primary residence, all joint properties, and full ownership of the
Kingsbury Trust. Furthermore, Mr. Richardson is ordered to pay full restitution to Richardson Holdings in the
amount of twelve million dollars."
Judge Harrison slammed her gavel. "This court is adjourned."
The gallery erupted into cheers. Eleanor, Arthur, and my legal team crowded around me, offering
congratulations and hugs. I smiled, thanking them, but my eyes drifted back to Robert.
He was sitting frozen in his chair, staring at the empty table. He had nothing left. No company. No money. No
mistress. No dignity.
Slowly, he stood up and walked toward me, his guard letting him pass for one final conversation.
"Evelyn," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please. I have nowhere to go. The federal prosecutors are talking
about prison time. I'm seventy-five. I won't survive in there."
A Woman Who Matters 18
I looked at him, the man I had loved for nearly half a century. I expected to feel anger, or perhaps a lingering
sense of sadness. But as I looked at his broken figure, I felt absolutely nothing. The emotional ties that had bound
me to him had been completely severed.
"You should have thought about that, Robert," I said softly, "before you told me I was old, sick, and didn't
matter."
"Can't you do something?" he begged, tears pooling in his eyes. "Tell the prosecutors to drop the corporate
charges. You own the company now. You can make it go away."
"I could," I said. "But as the CEO of Richardson Holdings, I have a fiduciary duty to my shareholders to
prosecute any and all acts of theft."
I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "And as a woman who still matters, I have a duty to myself."
May you like
I turned and walked out of the courtroom, leaving him standing there in the cold, silent room, completely alone.
A Woman Who Matters 19
