“You told him I wasn’t Derek’s real family.
You told him mothers come before wives.
And you said that one day Derek would understand where he belonged.”
Derek stared at her.
Elaine shrugged.
“I was upset.”
“He was eight.”
“I didn’t know he was listening.”
I stood.
“That is not a defense.”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
For years I had watched him excuse everything Elaine did before he even understood what had happened.
This time he had no answer ready.
Mr.
Robles tapped the folder gently.
“We should address the legal documents.”
Derek looked at the two sheets I had placed on the table earlier.
The complaint.
The temporary restraining order.
His face hardened again.
“You planned this.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Long enough to stop confusing patience with permission.”
He looked around the dining room as though he were seeing it for the first time.
The table I bought.
The chairs I bought.
The walls inside the house recorded in my name.
Then he glanced at the deed on top of the folder.
“Our house,” he muttered.
I shook my head.
“No, Derek.
You said that because you never read the deed.”
He picked it up again.
The property had remained separate under the arrangement we had signed.
The prenuptial agreement beneath it made that even clearer.
He sat down heavily.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I am enforcing what my lawyer advised me to enforce.”
“Over money?”
I stared at him.
“No.
Over years of lying about money, taking access to money that wasn’t yours, allowing your mother to humiliate me in my own home, and teaching our son that his mother mattered less than keeping Elaine comfortable.”
“That’s not what I did.”
“It is exactly what you did.”
Elaine threw up her hands.
“This woman has always wanted to separate us.”
Derek looked at her.
Something in his expression finally made her stop.
He raised the apartment record.
“You told me you were renting this place.”
“I explained what I needed.”
“No.
You told me there was a deposit.”
“I needed money.”
“For what?”
