A dozen or so people in ordinary attire sat scattered across the public gallery. The defense attorney stood up from behind the defense counsel table, presenting a black accounting ledger to the judge. "Your Honor, this is the ledger recorded by my client ever since he met the plaintiff. It is more than enough to prove that the plaintiff's income was only sufficient to cover her own daily living expenses. Therefore, all fixed assets acquired during the marriage were funded entirely by the defendant. The plaintiff has no grounds to claim any additional compensation. All records are accompanied by original receipts, which the plaintiff's side can verify in court."
Before the black ledger could reach the court clerk, it was snatched away by the distraught plaintiff. The disheveled woman, looking nearly forty, bore the desolate look of youth long faded. With trembling hands, she flipped open the thick ledger, which was plastered with receipts. Barely past the first page, her voice cracked, "February 1998, red roses, 46 yuan; taxi fare, 21 yuan; movie tickets—David! What is the meaning of this?"
Seated across from her, the expressionless man wore an immaculate black suit with neatly trimmed hair, watching her with cold detachment. "Did you forget?"
The situation turned bizarre. Everyone else in the courtroom froze, the vast space falling silent save for the rustling sound of pages turning in trembling hands. A slightly crisp receipt fluttered out from the very last page. She let out a cry—a sound of disbelief and heartbreaking agony terrifying in its intensity. "What is this?! You even calculated the birthday gift bought for our daughter down to the very last penny?!"
"We agreed on joint custody. Don't get it twisted," came the icy reply. A small figure in the gallery stood up, breaking free from an elderly person's restraining grip and running forward. "Mom, please don't cry. Mom, let's go home."
"Hold on a second." Amidst the chaos, a clear, pleasant female voice rang out. Her articulation was crisp and powerful, without a trace of hesitation, evoking the image of sweet, juicy sugarcane in the heat of summer. She took the black ledger, rapidly flipping through a few pages. Her elegant, slender fingers gripped the cover so tightly that a faint friction sound echoed from the binding.
A sleek black suit, long slender legs beneath a pencil skirt, a dangerously thin waist—yet her steps were unwavering as she strode forward.
Within a few paces, she stood before the bench, lifting a delicate, oval-shaped face. Her upturned eyebrows brought to mind a phoenix spreading its wings. Victoria, the renowned "Queen-tier" attorney of the Central Plains, possessed an undeniable, overwhelming presence. The poor judge, who had spent his entire life in this small court of a provincial town, had never witnessed such a formidable aura. Frightened out of his wits, he recoiled ungracefully.
She had returned to her hometown to pay respects to her ancestors when she accidentally crossed paths with this pitiful mother and daughter—who happened to be distant relatives of her mother's family. It was the most cliché, rotten betrayal imaginable: a man turning his back on shared hardships once wealth was attained, casting aside his loyal wife for a new lover, and transferring every last cent of assets, only to now attempt to escape paying the final scraps of cash compensation.
As a specialist in high-stakes divorce litigation, she had seen it all. What others viewed as human tragedies were to her nothing more than a walk in the park. Yet, she hadn't expected this trashy man to keep such a shocking private ledger. After all these years—well, of course. With such ruthless and calculating selfishness, how could he not have gotten rich?
She had seen plenty of inhuman men, but this was certainly the first time she had encountered one sinking quite this low. She glanced over at the weeping mother and daughter. Ten years sharing the same pillow, only to suddenly morph into a complete stranger. Such a devastating blow meant they wouldn't sober up anytime soon.
"Your Honor, I have looked over this document," she said, turning back to address the bench.
"Ah, yes... and what does Ms. Victoria think—" In a small-town civil court, weren't most messy lawsuits pre-determined anyway? David had spoken to the court president weeks before the trial; today was merely supposed to be a formality. Why on earth did Victoria suddenly drop in? Cold sweat poured down the judge's neck. Had he known this would happen, he would have called in sick no matter what.
"They are all originals. It is indeed genuine," she nodded, giving a definitive answer.
*Ah? So simple?* Relieved, the judge declared, "Then I shall rule—"
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