I watched my son's new wife loudly tell his kids from his first marriage that they were "ruining the aesthetic" of her new house — and just as I was about to respond, karma stepped in.

Nolan called his lawyer from my kitchen.

I took the kids into the back garden while he talked.

Owen wanted to build something, so I found an old cardboard box in the garage and we sat on the back step and he designed what he called a moon base while Lily read beside us, glancing up every few minutes at the kitchen window.

"Is Dad calling about Chloe?" she asked, not looking up from her book.

"He's handling some things, yes."

She turned a page.

"She painted over Mom's handprints."

I looked at her.

"I saw her do it," Lily said.

"She said it was an accident but I was standing right there.

She looked at them first.

She read the names." She kept her eyes on the page.

"I didn't tell Dad because I didn't think he'd believe me."

Owen looked up from his cardboard.

He was listening.

"He would have believed you," I said carefully.

Lily shrugged.

One small, practiced shrug that broke something in me.

"Maybe," she said.

Nolan came out twenty minutes later.

He sat down on the step beside Owen and looked at the moon base.

"That's impressive, bud."

"It has a rescue bay," Owen said.

"For if anyone gets stuck."

"Smart." Nolan put his arm around him.

Then he looked at me over Owen's head.

"The school enrollment form," he said quietly.

"It was submitted online six weeks ago.

The deposit was paid from a joint account we set up for household expenses." He kept his voice level.

"She used my name on the form.

Listed herself as primary contact.

Listed the kids' legal names, their dates of birth, their previous school." A pause.

"She had everything."

"What does your lawyer say?"

"He says submitting an enrollment form using someone else's name without consent is potentially fraudulent.

He's looking at the financial piece too — using the joint account for something I didn't authorize." He glanced at the kids.

Owen was adding a new section to the moon base.

Lily was watching her father.

"He also said that if I decide to separate, the fact that she took steps to remove the children from the home without my knowledge will matter.

Legally."

"Nolan," I said.

"Have you decided?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"I decided this morning," he said.

"When she told me the handprints were an accident."

Lily put her book down.

She reached over and took her father's hand.

She didn't say anything.

She just held it.

Owen looked up.

"Dad, do you want to add a section to the moon base?"

Nolan looked at his son.

His jaw worked once.

"Yeah," he said.

"I do."

He got down off the step and sat cross-legged on the grass beside Owen, and the two of them bent over the cardboard together, and for a few minutes the only sound was Owen explaining the structural requirements of a proper rescue bay.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Nolan's number, which made no sense until I realized he must have sent it before he came outside.

*She's been calling me.

I haven't picked up.

She just sent a message saying if I don't come home tonight she's going to contact a family lawyer herself and she'll make sure the kids end up in a custody arrangement that reflects 'the instability I'm currently creating.' Those are her words.*

I read it twice.

Then I looked up at my son sitting in the grass, helping his seven-year-old build a rescue bay, and I typed back one word.