Chapter 6: The Lawyer's Office
Barbara came with me.
She sat in the chair beside me in front of the lawyer's desk and placed her handbag on her lap like she was settling in for something she had been waiting to do for years.
The lawyer's name was Patricia Hale.
Barbara had found her — not Thomas, the family friend who had called Barbara about the paternity waiver, but someone with no connection to Eric at all.
Patricia had a reputation, Barbara said, for cases involving hidden assets.
I put everything on the desk.
The bank statements.
The wire transfer to Dana.
The paternity waiver.
The screenshot of the property payments Kayla had found.
Patricia read through each page without speaking.
When she finished, she set them down in a neat stack and looked at me.
"How old is your daughter?"
"Four months."
"And you were married at the time of conception?"
"Yes.
We were married for three years."
"Is he on the birth certificate?"
"Yes."
She nodded slowly.
"The paternity waiver was never filed, so it has no legal standing.
He is the legal father.
That works in your favor." She tapped the bank statements.
"The account transfer — when was your separation date, officially?"
"There was no official date.
He left.
He didn't file anything."
"So you were still legally married when he moved this money."
"Yes."
Patricia sat back.
"Then this isn't just a child support matter.
The funds he transferred — including the amount sent to the third party — those are marital assets.
He moved them without your knowledge or consent during an intact marriage.
That's financial misconduct.
Potentially actionable beyond the divorce settlement."
Barbara made a small sound beside me.
Not quite a word.
"The property," Patricia continued.
"Held in the cousin's name — do you have the address?"
I slid Kayla's paper across the desk.
"It's on there."
She looked at it.
"I can have a title search run by tomorrow.
If the mortgage payments trace back to his account, that property is a marital asset regardless of whose name is on the deed.
Hiding it doesn't make it disappear.
It just makes him look worse in front of a judge."
"He said something," I told her.
"On the day his mother confronted him.
He said there were things I hadn't been told.
Things about the situation."
Patricia's expression didn't change.
"Did he say what?"
"No.
He went inside."
"Do you have any idea what he meant?"
I thought about it.
I had been thinking about it for three days.
"No," I said.
"But I think he was trying to buy time.
Or scare me off."
"It's possible," she said.
"It's also possible he has something.
People who plan this carefully sometimes have a contingency." She looked at me directly.
"Is there anything — anything at all — that he could use to complicate custody or support?
Anything from your past, your finances, your health history?"
"No."
"The emergency C-section.
The NICU.
Any history of mental health treatment?"
"I saw a therapist twice after my mother passed.
Three years ago."
"That won't matter." She made a note.
"Anything else?"
I thought of Chloe's breathing machine.
The morning routine.
The way I had learned to check the seal on the mask before I even had coffee.
"Nothing," I said.
Patricia nodded.
"Then here's what we do."
She walked us through it.
The divorce filing, which would trigger automatic financial disclosure requirements.
The child support motion, which could be filed simultaneously.
The request for a forensic accountant to trace the asset transfers.
The title search on the property.
A formal demand letter to Eric's attorney — she already knew who he used — outlining what we had and what we were prepared to present.
"The demand letter goes out first," she said.
"Before we file anything.
Sometimes that's enough.
Men who have hidden assets tend to prefer settling quietly over having a forensic accountant go through their records in open court."
"And if he doesn't settle?" I said.
"Then we file.
And we let the accountant work." She looked at the stack of documents.
"You've brought me more than most clients walk in with.
This is a strong position."
Barbara reached over and put her hand on mine.
I didn't pull away.
"One more thing," Patricia said.
She was looking at the wire transfer screenshot — Dana's name, Eric's account, eleven thousand dollars.
"The woman he sent this to.
Do you know if she's aware her name is on a transfer from marital funds?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"Her husband is Eric's client?"
"That's what I was told."
Patricia set the page down carefully.
"That's a conversation for another day.
But it may become relevant."
I looked at the document.
Eleven thousand dollars.
Taken from the account that was supposed to cover Chloe's birth.
Her first weeks.
Her breathing treatments.
"Make sure he knows we have it," I said.
Patricia almost smiled.
"He'll know."
I was putting on my coat when my phone buzzed.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*You should ask Barbara what she's not telling you.
There's a reason she was so ready to help.
Ask her about the will.*
I stood in the doorway of Patricia's office and read it twice.
May you like
Barbara was still at the desk, signing a form.
I put the phone in my pocket.
