Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha!!

I know nothing of lawyers, nor do I plan on becoming one. But this idea just popped in my head and I decided to give it a shot.

.::CHAPTER ONE::.

Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat?

The door of the black Lincoln was opened and a hand was extended to help me out of the vehicle. I pushed the door and stepped out, ignoring the hand that was offered.

"Fire him," I ordered before closing the phone.

My Jimmy Choo shoes echoed across the marble steps as I made my way towards the building in front of me. By this time, everyone inside that building knew that I was arriving. I slowly took off my Fendi glasses as I approached the entrance. Elegance is always important.

Who am I, you ask?

"Ms. Higurashi," the man smiled as he opened the door.

I am the owner of this place. Every person locked in an office; sitting behind a computer, taking phone calls, filing papers, writing reports…anything that breathes to put it in simple terms…they all work for me.

Conceited?

Yes.

Bitchy?

That too.

Yet it is all part of being a lawyer…the top to be exact. I am a very competitive person and I don't take bullshit from anyone…a perfectionist if you please. I don't doubt that more than half of the people in this building would want nothing more than to see my head on a platter. Hell, if I worked for me I'd probably hate me as well.

The elevator doors opened for me and I walked in with a slight grace.

"Top floor," I said in a firm tone.

The man nodded and pressed the button. I tapped my foot impatiently as I looked up to see the numbers. The silence was broken as the doors finally opened.

"Good morning Ms. Higurashi."

It was the usual fake greeting from everyone in the office, along with a forced smile upon their faces. It was always amusing to see them try.

I rapidly walked across the hall yet the tight Chanel suit I wore only limited the natural swift movement my body made. Ayame instantly handed me my Starbucks coffee when she saw me. I checked to see if it had extra caramel. Oh yes. If you are going to sin, then might as well do it right. None of that low fat, non fat shit.

The door was opened for me and I inspected the room quickly. The blinds were open and the files were on top of my desk. Approvingly, I walked in.

"Ms. Higurashi is there anything I can get you?" she asked.

The phone rang and I walked around my desk to answer it.

"Privacy."

Yes. Hate me and feel sorry for her. Bake her a cake. Do whatever you want. But the world is a bitch and this is a tough business. Either you deal with it or you leave. It's that simple.

"Hello," I answered when I heard the door close.

"Ms. Higurashi your nine o'clock appointment is here."

"Send her in, Martha."

"It's Millie."

"Of course."

I hung up the phone and sat down, waiting for my client. I am a very impatient person and I expect everyone on time.

The door was slowly opened and a woman, probably a few years older than me, walked in. She was tall, with a dark brown hair that matched her eyes.

"Ms. Higurashi?"

"Yes. Please, have a seat Ms…." I trailed off.

"Mrs. Houshi. But please, call me Sango."

"Sango," I echoed. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?"

She sat down and made herself comfortable.

"I'm fine, thank you."

I took a sip from my caramel latte before speaking.

"How can I help you?" I finally asked.

"I want to file for a divorce."

I hidden smirk appeared on my face. Typical.

Why does everyone bother with marriage? I mean seriously. About 4.95 per 1,000 people in the United States end up divorcing anyway. Pathetic, isn't it?

"Why is it you are seeking a divorce?" I asked, as I sat back in my chair.

This process was just too easy.

"He's had several affairs with other women," she commented with an annoyed tone.

I didn't feel sorry for her, mainly because I've dealt with several divorce cases. If she wanted sympathy this was the wrong place. I wasn't here to be her psychologist. I was here to get paid.

"You're husband's name?"

"Miroku…Miroku Houshi."

"How long have you been married?"

"Four years."

"Have you been married before?"

"No."

"Children?"

"No."

"Do you work?"

"I'm a choreographer."

"Income?"

"About $45,000."

I tapped my pen.

"Does Mr. Houshi have a lawyer?"

"I think so."

I raised an eyebrow and got up from my seat, returning with a few papers in my hand.

"Before I give you these papers, I need to know that you are sure about filing a divorce."

"I'm sure," she responded.

"Excellent," I smiled. "I need you to fill out these out."

She took them from my hands and skimmed through it quickly before looking at me.

"They contain questions about your personal data. The last page asks for your divorce goals. I'd prefer if you were specific. I'll see you tomorrow morning at the exact same time. Please make sure you've filled everything."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"I'd also like to create a budget with you tomorrow. We'll also discuss the expenses you made jointly and individually."

She nodded and stood up, making her way towards the door.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"If you signed a prenuptial agreement please bring a copy with you. Do the same for any other legal documents."

"Yes, of course."

"Wait."

She slowly turned to look at me.

"Do you, by any chance, know who your husband's lawyer is?"

As I said, I'm very competitive and I like to know who or what I'm dealing with. I'm not worried simply because I've never lost a case. But still…it is always interesting to know who you're going to pulverize.

She paused for a moment, as if she were trying to remember the unimportant name.

"Inu—Inuyasha Takahashi, I believe."

My eyes widened and my mouth fell from its trap. Bats could've easily made a home inside the wide hole on my face.

Inuyasha was the only other lawyer mentioned in the papers. The rest were shit. Although we were considered the top lawyers of New York, I had never been in a court room with him.

"Something wrong Ms. Higurashi?"

I shook off the disgusting feeling and smiled.

"Not at all."

I waited for her to leave before returning to my nervous stage. The room suddenly felt like an oven and I could feel the sweat stroll down my face.

Fuck.