My husband, Liam, wanted to give his illegitimate son my family's century-old apple orchard.
In the fifth year of our marriage, he brought the three-year-old boy straight into our home.
"He's the orphan of a business partner. From now on, he's our son," he lied without blinking.
I stared at the boy’s face, a perfect miniature of his father's.
"Which partner? The one in Portland three years ago? The one who had you renting an apartment instead of staying at the hotel?"
His composure shattered. With the lie dead on arrival, he laid his cards on the table.
"The boy's mother is moving in, too. You can't have children, Elara. Are you going to stop me from finding someone who can?"
"Besides," he added, "your position as mistress of Dawnlight Estate is rock-solid."
I almost laughed.
Rock-solid?
I would show him exactly how his cider company had been started with my trust fund and built on my family's land.
"Liam, get ready for a divorce."
"I'll make sure you remember exactly who owns this land."
...
Liam scoffed, as if I'd just said the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.
He lifted the boy, Leo, into a high chair, then turned to face me. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he looked me up and down.
"Remember who owns the land?" he repeated, the mockery in his voice a blade. "Elara, let's get something straight. Who is the CEO of Orchard Bloom, LLC?"
"You are."
"And whose name are the cider trademarks registered under?"
"Yours."
"Who negotiated our biggest distribution deals, from Whole Foods on the West Coast to boutique grocers in New York?"
"You did."
"Exactly." He walked to the bar and poured a glass of water, setting it down with a sharp tap on the granite countertop. "So what makes you think you're in any position to talk about dividing assets? Just because you own this land?"
He took a long drink, as if quenching a deep thirst.
"Have you forgotten Section 7B of the company'......
