I didn’t offer my hand. I didn’t even blink. I just sat down across from him.
His lawyer began a long, poetic monologue about grief. He claimed Greg had made “imperfect decisions under extreme psychological strain.” He argued that the insurance company was unfairly punishing a grieving widower.
David waited patiently until the lawyer ran out of expensive adjectives. Then, David slid a thick black binder across the polished table.
“Tab three,” David commanded.
Greg’s attorney opened it. Inside were the bank transfer logs, the expedited divorce filings, the oncologist notes detailing Greg’s medical coercion, and the USB drive containing the Bahamas voice memo.
“Your client did not merely fail his spouse,” David said, his voice deadly quiet. “He financially isolated a terminal woman. He coerced her into a fraudulent divorce to steal her assets. He maintained a financial incentive in her death, and publicly celebrated his remarriage on a beach before her body was even cold. If you want to test a jury to see if those facts constitute criminal exploitation, I would be absolutely delighted to destroy you in open court.”
Greg’s lawyer stared at the transcripts of the voice memo, his face turning an unhealthy shade of pale. He looked at Greg with profound professional irritation.
For the first time, Greg looked genuinely terrified. He leaned forward, adopting a mask of pathetic sorrow.
“Martha, you have to believe me,” Greg pleaded, his eyes shining with fake tears. “I loved Sarah.”
The room went dead still.
“No,” I said, my voice echoing like a judge reading a death sentence. “You loved what staying beside her would have cost you financially. You chose the cheaper option.”
His jaw tightened in anger. “You don’t know what it was like taking care of her!”
“Then tell me, Greg,” I demanded, leaning across the table, my eyes burning into his soul. “Tell me exactly what it was like to file for divorce while she was vomiting blood from chemotherapy. Tell me what it was like to watch a woman you vowed to protect lose so much weight her wedding ring fell off, and decide that was the perfect time to drain her savings account. Tell me what it was like to book a honeymoon suite before the ink on her hospice intake forms had even dried.”
Greg’s lawyer actually squeezed his eyes shut in defeat.
Greg looked down at the table, his mask completely slipping, revealing the arrogant, entitled monster underneath. “She was already dying anyway,” he muttered defensively.
David slammed his hands on the table. “And there it is.”
The mediation ended twenty minutes later. Greg’s attorney dragged him into the hallway and returned with a total, unconditional surrender. Greg renounced all claims to the life insurance. He relinquished any challenge to Sarah’s newly established trust. He signed a formal retraction of his claims that Sarah was mentally unstable.
