Chapter 9: What Gwen Did With the Money First
The lottery claim cleared on a Tuesday.
Patricia called me from the commission office herself.
"It's confirmed," she said.
"One hundred million dollars.
The dispute flag has been removed.
The funds will be transferred to your designated account within seventy-two hours."
I was standing in the car park outside the clinic where I had worked for eleven years.
I had just finished a morning shift.
My shoes were the same ones I had worn for three years because I had kept telling myself I would buy new ones when things got easier.
"Thank you, Patricia," I said.
"Gwen." Her voice softened slightly, which was rare.
"Go buy yourself something.
Just once, before the lawyers and the accountants and the financial advisors get their hands on any of it."
I laughed.
It surprised me — the ease of it.
"I'll think about it," I said.
The first transfer I authorised was not for myself.
It was to the family law firm representing Abigail.
The second was a rental deposit and six months of advance rent on a two-bedroom apartment in a building with a good school two streets away.
The lease was in Abigail's name.
The dinosaur on the diner table had told me Caleb liked dinosaurs, so I asked the letting agent if there was a natural history museum within walking distance.
There was.
Abigail called me when the keys arrived.
"Gwen," she said.
Her voice was unsteady.
"This is too much."
"It's a start," I said.
"That's different from too much."
A silence.
"How is Caleb?" I asked.
"He found the museum on his own on Saturday.
He stood in front of the T.
rex for twenty minutes without moving." She made a sound that was half-laugh, half-something else.
"He's going to be okay."
"Yes," I said.
"He is."
The divorce proceedings took four months.
Douglas fought at every stage — the asset division, the fraud restitution order, the family court findings regarding Caleb's custody and Abigail's fitness as a parent.
He brought in a second lawyer.
Then a third.
He filed two counter-motions that Patricia dismantled in writing within forty-eight hours each time.
The custody threat collapsed entirely when Abigail's attorney presented the recorded phone call alongside testimony from Abigail's mother, her neighbour, and Caleb's nursery supervisor.
The judge's response to Douglas's fabricated evidence was brief and unambiguous.
Douglas did not look at me during the final hearing.
He sat at his table with his third lawyer and stared at the surface in front of him while the judge read the findings aloud.
Fraud.
Financial coercion.
Misappropriation of marital assets over a period of four years.
Total restitution ordered: three hundred and twelve thousand dollars, to be paid from the sale of the business.
The business partnership dissolved by mutual agreement, with Gerald's share protected given his full cooperation with investigators.
The marriage: dissolved.
When it was over, Douglas stood up and his lawyer said something quietly to him.
He nodded once.
Then he turned and looked at me for the first time all morning.
I had expected anger.
Or bitterness.
Or one last attempt at the smile he used when he wanted something.
Instead he just looked tired.
"I thought you'd never figure it out," he said.
It wasn't an apology.
It wasn't an explanation.
It was just the truth, finally, with nothing left to protect.
"I know," I said.
"That was your mistake."
He walked out.
His lawyer followed.
The door closed.
May you like
Patricia put her hand briefly on my arm.
Then she began gathering her papers.
