Chapter 8 - The Family Cracks
Lauren's statement lasted nearly two hours.
When she returned, she looked sick.
Deborah refused to speak to her.
Richard called her a traitor.
Travis begged her to change her story.
She refused.
Then Richard came to see me.
He stood in my doorway holding no flowers.
No gift.
No apology.
Only anger.
“You're destroying this family.”
He said.
I stared at him.
“My son almost died.”
“Nobody wanted that.”
“But you were willing to risk it.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“You're making everything sound malicious.”
“You said I could wait a few hours.”
“You remember that?”
His eyes flickered.
“I was trying to calm everyone down.”
“You weren't calming anyone.”
“You were giving Travis permission to abandon me.”
Richard stepped closer.
“You need to think carefully.”
“Travis could lose his career.”
That sentence clarified everything.
He wasn't worried about my babies.
He was worried about consequences.
“Get out.”
I said.
“You should think about what happens if your marriage ends.”
“I already have.”
His expression changed.
“Travis pays the mortgage.”
I almost smiled.
Richard had no idea.
Neither did Travis.
Three years earlier, my grandmother had died.
She left me the house.
Not a down payment.
Not shared ownership.
The entire property.
Travis had moved in after our wedding.
The mortgage Richard assumed existed had been paid off twelve years before.
I had never corrected the family because I didn't care who they thought owned it.
Now I did.
“The house is mine.”
I said.
Richard frowned.
“What?”
“My grandmother left it to me.”
“Travis doesn't own a single square foot.”
His face changed.
I continued.
“The cars are separate.”
“My investment account is separate.”
“The emergency savings are mine.”
“And the account Travis uses for household expenses?”
I paused.
“He was an authorized user.”
“Was?”
Richard whispered.
“Yes.”
“I removed him this morning.”
His expression hardened.
“You planned this quickly.”
“No.”
“You planned it when you left me bleeding on a sofa.”
Richard walked out without another word.
That evening, my attorney called.
Her name was Cassandra Reed.
We had been college roommates before she became one of the most relentless family-law attorneys in the county.
“I pulled the property documents.”
She said.
“You're protected.”
“What about the twins?”
“We file for emergency temporary custody immediately.”
“And Travis?”
“We document everything.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do it.”
Cassandra paused.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“I reviewed the household account because you asked me to.”
My stomach tightened.
“Okay.”
“Natalie, someone withdrew forty-eight thousand dollars from your emergency savings three days ago.”
I sat upright despite the pain.
“What?”
“The transfer went to an account in Travis's name.”
My blood went cold.
Then Cassandra said the words that opened an entirely new nightmare.
“And twenty thousand of it was transferred again.”
May you like
“To Deborah.”
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