Chapter 2 - The House He Tried to Reach First
I did not go home.
That was the first decision my attorney, Mara Collins, made for me.
I called her from the back seat of my mother’s car while Lily slept beside me.
Mara listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked only one question.
“Does Daniel know where you’re going?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
She told me to take Lily to my mother’s house.
She also told me not to enter our home alone.
“If Chloe is correct about forged documents, this has moved beyond adultery.”
I looked through the rear window.
The hotel disappeared behind us.
“What does it become?”
“Potential fraud.”
The word settled heavily between us.
Twenty minutes later Daniel called.
I ignored it.
He called again.
Then twelve more times.
His messages came next.
Come home.
We need to talk privately.
You embarrassed me in front of my clients.
Then the tone changed.
You cannot just take Lily.
Then again.
My mother says this could be considered parental alienation.
I stared at that message.
Susan had wasted no time.
My mother glanced at me.
“Don’t answer him.”
“I’m not going to.”
Another message arrived.
If you make this ugly, Jennifer, I promise you will regret it.
I forwarded every message to Mara.
By the time we reached my mother’s house, Mara had arranged for a process server to meet Daniel.
The divorce papers had been prepared weeks earlier.
I had not filed them because I wanted copies of the financial records first.
Now there was no reason to wait.
At 7:42 that evening, Daniel was served outside our home.
He called me thirty seconds later.
I answered this time.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “You planned this.”
“Yes.”
His breathing changed.
“All this time?”
“Yes.”
“You were sleeping next to me.”
“So were you.”
“You were pretending.”
I almost laughed.
“That bothers you?”
“Jennifer, listen to me.”
“No, Daniel.”
“You don’t understand what you’ve done.”
“I understand exactly what I’ve done.”
“This can still be fixed.”
“Our marriage?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
His silence lasted three seconds.
Then his voice became cold.
“I wasn’t talking about the marriage.”
I gripped the phone tighter.
“What were you talking about?”
“Lily.”
My entire body went still.
“If you try to keep my daughter from me, I will fight you.”
“I haven’t kept her from you.”
“You humiliated me publicly.”
“That has nothing to do with Lily.”
“A judge may disagree.”
There it was.
The threat beneath the threat.
Daniel knew my greatest vulnerability.
He also believed he knew how to use it.
I ended the call.
Five minutes later Chloe sent me a photograph.
It showed the bottom drawer of Daniel’s home-office filing cabinet.
She had marked the photograph with a red circle.
Behind the false panel.
I called Mara.
She arranged for a sheriff’s deputy to accompany me the following morning because my name was still on the deed.
Daniel was instructed through his attorney not to remove financial documents.
At 9:15 the next morning, I entered the house where I had once imagined raising Lily for years.
Daniel was gone.
The silence felt strange.
His coffee cup was still beside the sink.
His shoes were still near the mudroom.
Our wedding photograph was still on the hallway wall.
I walked past all of it.
The deputy stood near the office door while I opened the filing cabinet.
The bottom drawer looked ordinary.
Then I pressed my fingers against the back panel.
It shifted.
My heart began pounding.
Behind it was a black document envelope.
I pulled it out.
There were seventeen pages inside.
The first was an application for a home-equity line of credit.
Borrower one was Daniel Reed.
Borrower two was Jennifer Reed.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked almost perfect.
Almost.
But I had never signed it.
The approved amount was eighty thousand dollars.
I turned to the second page.
The loan had already been funded.
My mouth went dry.
I kept reading.
Thirty thousand dollars had been transferred into an account belonging to a company called DSR Consulting.
Another twenty thousand had gone to an account I did not recognize.
Then I found a document dated two weeks before Lily’s birth.
It was not a bank form.
It was a draft custody declaration.
My name appeared throughout it.
So did words I had never expected to see attached to me.
Postpartum instability.
Erratic behavior.
Financial irresponsibility.
Concerns regarding infant safety.
I could barely breathe.
The final paragraph requested that Daniel be granted temporary primary custody if our marriage ended.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
Need Susan to document episodes.
The deputy saw my face.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
I did not answer.
Because beneath that page was a second handwritten note.
This one was in Susan’s handwriting.
I recognized it from every birthday card she had ever given me.
May you like
It contained only six words.
After baptism, we move on Jennifer.
