Chapter 7: She Walks Back In
Patricia Osei was not what Maya had expected.
She was in her early fifties, compact and precise, with reading glasses pushed up on her head and a way of listening that made Maya feel like every word she said was being catalogued and used.
She had met Maya at Hargrove's office at noon, shaken her hand once, and immediately asked to see the marriage certificate.
"Six years," Patricia said, reading.
"Any joint property?"
"No.
Everything is in his name.
The house is rented.
The cars are leased."
"Joint accounts?"
"He gave me a household card with a five-hundred-dollar limit.
My name isn't on the account."
Patricia looked up over her glasses.
"He kept you financially isolated."
"Yes."
"Did you work during the marriage?"
"I waitressed for two years early on.
He made me stop.
He said it was embarrassing." Maya paused.
"After Lily was born, I didn't go back."
Patricia wrote something down.
"Any witnesses to the incident last night?"
"Forty-seven people."
Patricia's pen stopped moving.
She looked up.
"And a video," Maya added.
"Vanessa posted it.
It had two million views before it was taken down this morning."
Patricia set her pen down.
"The takedown — that was Hargrove's team?"
"Yes."
"Good.
We'll want a preserved copy for our records." Patricia leaned back.
"Maya, I want to be direct with you.
Based on what you've described — the financial control, the isolation, the public incident, the documented pattern — you have a strong case.
Lily's primary custody should not be difficult.
Richard has no legitimate claim to your inheritance.
And the financial misconduct connected to the estate gives us additional leverage in the divorce proceedings."
Maya nodded.
"He'll fight it."
"He'll try." Patricia folded her hands.
"Let him.
Every move he makes from this point forward is going to cost him more than the last one."
Maya was quiet for a moment.
Then she said: "I want to go back to the house."
Patricia frowned.
"To collect belongings?"
"I left things.
Documents.
Lily's medical records.
A box in the back of the closet." She paused.
"And I want him to see me walk in."
Patricia studied her.
"I can send someone—"
"I want to go myself."
A beat.
"I'll have a process server meet you there," Patricia said.
"He'll serve Richard with the divorce filing at the same time.
You won't be alone."
Maya arrived at the house at two in the afternoon.
A man named Howard from Patricia's office stood at the end of the front walk.
He was large, quiet, and had a manila envelope under his arm.
She rang the bell.
Richard opened the door.
He was dressed now, but his face had the tight, controlled look of a man who had spent the morning receiving bad news and was still deciding how to respond to it.
He looked at Howard.
Then at Maya.
"You brought someone," he said.
"Yes," Maya said.
"I'm here for Lily's medical records and the documents in the hall closet.
I'll be twenty minutes."
She stepped past him into the house.
Richard turned and followed her.
"Maya.
We need to talk."
"You can talk to my attorney." She opened the hall closet and pulled down a box from the top shelf.
"I made a mistake last night," Richard said.
His voice had shifted into something softer, something she recognized — the register he used when he wanted something.
"I was drinking.
I lost my temper.
That doesn't have to mean—"
"Howard," Maya said without turning around.
Howard stepped inside and handed Richard the manila envelope.
Richard looked at it.
He did not open it.
He already knew what it was.
"You're serious," he said.
"I was serious last night when I said we were leaving." She carried the box to the door.
"I just needed one night's sleep before I came back for the rest."
Richard's voice dropped.
The softness left it entirely.
"You have no idea what you're doing.
You think some old law firm is going to hand you four hundred million dollars?
They'll drag this out for years.
You'll run out of money before the first hearing."
Maya stopped at the door.
She turned and looked at him for the last time in that house.
"Richard," she said calmly.
"Gerald Foss's email account was accessed last night.
The document that told you who I was — the one that told you to find me before the estate closed — they have a copy of it." She watched his face.
"Your attorney already knows.
That's why Dennis called you this morning."
Richard's hand tightened on the envelope.
"Enjoy the house," she said.
"You have about thirty days left in it."
She walked out.
Howard followed and closed the door behind them.
On the front step, Maya stopped and breathed in the afternoon air.
Her hands were steady.
Her chest felt strange — not light exactly, but emptied of something heavy that had lived there so long she had stopped noticing its weight.
Her phone buzzed.
It was Carol.
*Lily made me teach her how to make pancakes.
We used all the maple syrup.
She says to tell you she saved you the biggest one.*
May you like
Maya looked at the message for a moment.
Then she smiled — the first real one in longer than she could remember — and walked to the waiting car.
