Her revisions capped the liability at replacement costs with a fixed damages limit. That contract is still in effect today and has already prevented two potential lawsuits.”

Carlos Mendoza interjected, attempting the familiar dismissal. “Your Honor, this is just normal marital support—”

“I’m not finished,” Alejandro interrupted, unflinching. “Let’s examine the metadata.”

The screen shifted to a series of contracts with embedded metadata visible—creation dates, author information, edit histories. “These contracts formed the foundation of Mr. Suárez’s business expansion. Metadata shows they were drafted on Mrs. Montes’s personal computer, under her account, and edited across multiple sessions. Mr. Suárez’s role was limited to reviewing and signing the final versions.”

One by one, the documents displayed my name as author, my computer as the source, proving I had drafted the legal language that safeguarded Eduardo’s business for years. Alejandro didn’t rush; he let the evidence speak in measured precision.

“The corporate restructuring enabling multi-state expansion? Drafted by Mrs. Montes. The employee handbook that prevented numerous labor disputes? Written by Mrs. Montes. The intellectual property protections for the company’s formulations? Researched and filed by Mrs. Montes.”

Jueza Hernández leaned forward, scanning each document carefully. Her sharp eyes lingered on the metadata as if seeing the invisible labor for the first time.

“And now,” Alejandro continued, his tone steely, “let’s address the joint account emptied three days before the divorce filing.”

Bank records appeared on the display, showing the unilateral transfer of 280,000 pesos from our joint account to Eduardo’s personal account. Alejandro’s voice was steady, methodical: “Your Honor, these funds represented years of joint savings. The transfer was unilateral, made without Mrs. Montes’s knowledge, timed specifically to leave her without resources to defend herself.”

Carlos stammered. “That money was my client’s business profits—”