"Dr. Chen, thank you for coming in," I said as she entered. "I understand you're interested in asset-protection strategies." She was a small woman with intelligent eyes and the kind of quiet intensity that suggested she'd built her success on precision and careful planning. "Mr. Hartwell, I've heard about your own situation."
"Sorry you had to go through that, but I'm impressed by how you handled it." "Thank you," I replied. "What's your current situation?" "Twenty-three years of marriage, two children in college, and a husband who's become increasingly secretive about his finances," she explained.
"I've built a successful practice, and I'm concerned about protecting what I've worked for." We spent the next hour discussing strategies, separate accounts, property transfers, documentation protocols, and the legal framework that would protect her assets if her worst fears were confirmed. By the time she left, she had a comprehensive plan and the contact information for investigators who could provide the evidence she might need. After she left, I walked to the window overlooking downtown Austin.
The city had grown in the months since my divorce, new buildings rising from construction sites, the skyline constantly evolving. I'd grown, too, though not in ways I'd expected. The practice had expanded beyond simple asset protection. I'd developed expertise in prenuptial agreements, postnuptial agreements, and divorce strategy for high-net-worth individuals.
My reputation for thoroughness and discretion had attracted clients from across Texas and beyond. My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. "David, it's Marcus," came the familiar voice. "Are you free for lunch? I have something I want to discuss with you."
"Professional or personal?" I asked. "Both," Marcus replied. "Meet me at that new place on Sixth Street." I found Marcus already seated at a table overlooking the river, two glasses of wine already ordered.
He looked prosperous and satisfied, the way successful lawyers did when they were about to share good news. "David, I have a proposition for you," Marcus began without preamble. "Partnership." "In what?" I asked.
"Asset-protection law," he explained. "We combine our practices, create a firm that specializes in protecting wealth from domestic disputes. Your expertise in prenups and divorce strategy, my expertise in banking and financial law." I considered this.
The past six months had been profitable but also isolating. Building a practice around betrayal and mistrust was emotionally taxing, even when it was financially rewarding. "What would that look like?" I asked. "Webb and Hartwell, Attorneys at Law," Marcus said with enthusiasm.
"We target high-net-worth individuals, executives, professionals, anyone with assets worth protecting. We market ourselves as the lawyers who understand that love and money don't mix." "That's a cynical business model," I observed. "That's a realistic business model," Marcus corrected.
"David, you've seen what I've seen. Half of all marriages end in divorce, and the other half should. We're not destroying marriages. We're protecting people from the financial consequences of their own optimism."