Chapter 6: What Vivian Did Next
Patricia called it escalation.
I called it Tuesday.
Mitchell had been at his mother's for four days when Vivian made her next move.
I came home from work to find a letter wedged between the front door and the frame.
No envelope.
Just a single folded page, placed where I couldn't miss it.
I unfolded it on the porch.
It was handwritten.
Vivian's handwriting — I recognized it from birthday cards.
*Audrey.
You have isolated my son from his family for seven years.
You have used your financial position to control him and diminish him.
What you are doing is not strength.
It is cruelty.
A good wife would not need a deed to feel secure.
Mitchell deserves better.
We will make sure he gets it.
— V*
I photographed it.
I sent the photograph to Patricia.
She called me back in four minutes.
"Don't respond.
Don't contact her.
Save the original."
"She hand-delivered a harassment letter to my front door."
"I know.
It's actually helpful.
Keep it."
That same evening, Mallory sent me a Facebook message.
I had not spoken to Mallory in four days.
The message was long.
It covered Mitchell's childhood, his sacrifices, the way I had always made him feel small, and ended with: *You don't deserve that house and deep down you know it.*
I screenshotted it.
Sent it to Patricia.
Did not reply.
Two days later, Mitchell called.
"My mother wants to meet," he said.
"Somewhere neutral.
Just to talk."
"About what?"
"About finding a solution that works for everyone."
"Mitchell, your mother left a letter on my door calling me cruel and telling me you deserve better.
That's not someone who wants to find a solution."
"She's upset.
She says things."
"She says things and then your lawyer uses them.
I've learned that."
A pause.
"I don't have a lawyer right now."
"You had one eight months ago."
"I told you, I stopped—"
"Patricia." The name came out before I'd decided to say it.
"P.H.
The initials in the margin of the valuation sheet.
Patricia Hartwell.
I looked her up.
She specializes in contested marital property."
Silence.
"Mitchell.
Are you still working with her?"
"Audrey—"
"Yes or no."
A very long pause.
"Mom has been in contact with her.
Not me.
I swear."
"Your mother has been coordinating with your family law attorney without you."
"It's complicated."
"It really isn't." I sat down at my kitchen table.
"Your mother is running a legal strategy against me using an attorney you originally hired, and you're calling to ask me to meet with her somewhere neutral."
"I'm trying to find a way through this that doesn't destroy everything."
"Then call off your mother."
"I can't just—"
"You can.
You choose not to.
There's a difference."
He was quiet for a moment.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
"Patricia Hartwell told my mother that if we can show you've been emotionally withholding and financially dominant throughout the marriage, the contribution argument gets stronger.
Mom has been collecting things.
Statements from people.
Neighbors.
My old coworkers."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"What people?"
"I don't know all of them.
She didn't tell me everything."
"Mitchell.
Who has your mother been talking to about our marriage?"
"I don't know, Audrey.
I found out two days ago and I've been trying to get her to stop."
"And?"
A pause.
"She told me it was too late to stop.
That the process was already in motion."
I stood up from the table.
Walked to the window.
The driveway was empty.
"Thank you for telling me," I said.
"Audrey, I'm sorry.
I didn't want this."
"I know." I looked out at the empty driveway.
"But it's happening anyway."
I hung up and called Patricia Howe immediately.
"Vivian has been building a witness case," I said when she picked up.
"Neighbors.
Former coworkers.
I don't know who."
"How do you know?"
"Mitchell told me."
A brief pause.
"Interesting.
Either he's genuinely trying to warn you, or he wanted you rattled before the weekend."
"Which do you think?"
"I think it doesn't matter," Patricia said.
"Because either way, we're going to be ready.
May you like
I need you to come in tomorrow morning.
And Audrey — bring every photograph you took in that house."
