Chapter 3: Copies
Sunday morning Nora’s office was closed to the public and open to us by arrangement.
I uploaded the garage photos to a shared folder while Dana produced a printed packet. Nora reviewed the second address, the transfer labels, the calendar codes. She did not whistle or swear. She highlighted.
“This is marital misconduct and potential support claims regarding a child not of the marriage,” she said. “It may also touch financial disclosure issues if funds left the joint orbit without your knowledge. Your vision history is relevant to how concealment worked. We’ll document the medical timeline.”
I signed retainers. I authorized credit freezes and account alerts. I listed every password Brian had “helped” me manage by reading screens I could not see. Each password felt like a small betrayal I had thanked him for.
By afternoon a process server strategy existed for the moment he returned. By evening I had a temporary order checklist and a safer place to sleep—Dana’s guest room, where the curtains were a color I could finally name.
Brian texted at 9:14 p.m. from what the calendar would have called an S + J night: Flight on time Thursday. Need anything from the store when I get in?
I stared at the words until the letters stopped swimming. Then I typed, with my own eyes and my own fingers: No. See you Thursday.
May you like
I did not write I can see the booster seat.
Surprise, for once, would travel in the other direction.
