Chapter 13 - HE BLAMED ME FOR THE DIVORCE
Brandon was served at 8:15 on a Tuesday morning.
He called me at 8:19.
I answered.
“What did you do?”
“You’re holding the answer.”
“You filed for divorce?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
He started laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
Because panic had reached the point where anger could no longer contain it.
“You’re destroying fifteen years over paperwork?”
“No.”
“You’re taking Skylar away because Mom served her soup?”
“No.”
“You’re ending a marriage because of one bad financial decision?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I took a breath.
“Because every time you describe what happened, you make it smaller.”
He went quiet.
I continued.
“You didn’t make one financial mistake.”
“You built secret accounts.”
“You used my information.”
“You signed documents connected to my house.”
“You let your family spend money while treating our daughter like she was less important.”
“You lied to investors about me.”
“You created a company behind my back.”
“You tried to position yourself to control the house before I even knew we had a problem.”
Brandon’s breathing became heavier.
“And now you’re pretending the divorce is my overreaction.”
“I was scared.”
“Then you should have talked to me.”
“You’re impossible to talk to.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The excuse.”
I looked out my office window.
“You always need one.”
He lowered his voice.
“Charlotte, we can fix this.”
“No.”
“For Skylar.”
“Do not use her.”
“She needs both parents.”
“She has both parents.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
I did.
He meant she needed us married because that protected him from consequences.
“I want counseling.”
“You should get it.”
“With you.”
“No.”
“Charlotte.”
“I’m done negotiating whether I’m allowed to be done.”
He went silent.
Then his voice changed.
Cold.
“If you leave me, I’ll fight for the house.”
“I know.”
“And custody.”
My chest tightened.
“Do what you think you need to do.”
“You work sixty hours a week.”
“I know.”
“My mother can testify you’re never home.”
There it was.
The threat I had expected.
I closed my eyes.
“Brandon.”
“What?”
“You should probably ask your mother what she gave my attorney.”
Silence.
Then the line disconnected.
Ten minutes later, Gertrude called.
I did not answer.
Twenty minutes later, Hailey texted me.
Dad is screaming at Mom.
I stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
She gave you the bank records, didn’t she?
I typed.
Yes.
Hailey responded.
Good.
I looked at that word for a long time.
May you like
Brandon had spent years turning the women around him against one another.
Now the story was collapsing because we had finally started comparing notes.
