Best investment I ever made. Over the next two weeks, Victoria and her family made their intentions clear. They hired the most expensive divorce lawyer in Orlando, a shark named Bradley Morrison who specialized in protecting wealthy clients’ assets.
His hourly rate was $950. Morrison sent me threatening letters, demanding I vacate any claim to the lottery winnings. He argued that since Victoria picked the numbers and bought the ticket, it was her separate property, regardless of the prenup.
They underestimated me completely. They saw a working class guy who’d roll over and accept whatever scraps they threw him. They were wrong.
Hayes and I worked methodically through November and December. We documented everything. When the ticket was purchased, what account the money came from.
Even the fact that Victoria had been using our joint Wells Fargo checking account to buy lottery tickets for years. But the real breakthrough came when Hayes discovered something beautiful in Florida state law. Robert, he said during one of our strategy sessions in late December, Florida Statute 61.075 is very clear about lottery winnings acquired during marriage.
Unless there’s a specific agreement stating otherwise, they’re marital assets. But didn’t the prenup exclude them? Hayes grinned. That’s the beautiful irony.
The prenup your in-laws forced you to sign actually strengthens your claim. They specifically included language about any prizes or winnings being marital property. They were so worried about protecting their existing wealth.
They accidentally gave away rights to future windfalls. Meanwhile, Victoria was living it up. She bought a new BMW X5 for $87,000 in November, designer clothes, and put a deposit on a waterfront condo in Winter Park for $750,000.
Her social media was full of photos from expensive restaurants like the Ravenous Pig and luxury shopping trips to mall at Millennia. She was spending our money like it was going out of style and social media was documenting everything. The divorce proceedings began in earnest in January, 2025.
Morrison, Victoria’s attorney, came out swinging. He filed motions to dismiss my claims, arguing that I was a gold digger trying to exploit a legal loophole. During our first court appearance at the Orange County Courthouse on January 15th, Morrison was cocky.
He strutted around in his $2,000 Armani suit, making snide comments about opportunistic spouses to anyone who’d listen. Your honor, Morrison argued. Mr. King is attempting to claim half of winnings that his estranged wife earned through her own luck and intuition.
The lottery ticket was purchased with Mrs. King’s personal funds, using numbers she selected based on her family’s significant dates. This is clearly separate property. Judge Patricia Henderson listened patiently.
She was known for being thorough and fair, with 18 years on the bench in family court. Hayes stood up for our response. Your honor, Florida law is clear on this matter.
But more importantly, the prenuptial agreement that Mr. Morrison’s clients insisted upon specifically states that any prizes or winnings acquired during marriage are marital property. Morrison scoffed. That clause was intended to cover things like small casino winnings or raffle prizes, not a $12 million lottery jackpot.
The document says any prizes or winnings, your honor. Hayes replied calmly. It doesn’t specify an amount limit.
Judge Henderson requested copies of all documents. The hearing was adjourned for two weeks to allow her time to review everything. Victoria was furious.
I heard through mutual friends that she’d been screaming at her parents, blaming them for the prenup language. The Wilson family was starting to panic. They tried to settle out of court in early February.
Charles Wilson called me directly on my cell phone, something he’d never done in eight years of marriage. Robert, let’s be reasonable here, he said. We’ll offer you $1.2 million to walk away clean.
That’s more money than you’ve ever seen. I’ll think about it, I replied, though I’d already made up my mind. Two days later, Victoria herself showed up at my extended stay motel room.
She looked different, tired, stressed. The constant partying was taking its toll. Robert, please, she begged.
We can work this out. I was scared, okay? The money, it overwhelmed me. My family got in my head.
Scared of what, Victoria? Sharing our good fortune? I’ll give you $3.2 million, she said desperately. $3.2 million, Robert. We can both start fresh.
I looked at my wife of eight years, this woman I’d once loved completely, and felt nothing but pity. It was never about the money, Victoria. It was about respect.
She left crying. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
The discovery phase in February and March revealed just how badly they’d miscalculated. Hayes subpoenaed all Victoria’s financial records, showing she’d been using our joint account to buy lottery tickets for years. We had documentation going back to 2019 proving it was a pattern of marital spending.
More damaging was what Morrison had advised Victoria to do with the money. Instead of keeping it separate, she’d been spending it freely, mixing it with other marital funds. In legal terms, she’d co-mingled the asset, which further strengthened our claim.
But the real nail in the coffin came when Hayes discovered Morrison had made a critical error. In his haste to file preliminary motions in November, he’d actually acknowledged in court documents that the lottery ticket was purchased during the marriage with marital funds. He just destroyed his own case, Hayes told me, barely containing his glee.
Morrison’s so used to bullying people into settlements, he got sloppy. The final hearing was scheduled for April 18th, 2025. As the date approached, the Wilson family’s desperation became obvious.
They hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on me. They found nothing. I’d lived a clean life.
They tried to claim I’d been emotionally abusive, hoping to reduce my settlement. Victoria gave a deposition claiming I’d been controlling and manipulative. The problem was, they had no evidence.