Chapter 6: What Paul Found
Paul called me the next morning at eight-fifteen.
"I pulled the filing," he said.
"It's real.
Ethan filed sixteen days ago.
Irreconcilable differences."
I was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee I hadn't touched.
Dana was across from me, watching my face.
"Okay," I said.
"The good news is you have more ground than you think.
This state is an equitable distribution state.
The deed being in his name doesn't mean you walk away with nothing — it means we have to make the argument, and we will make it." A pause.
"Brooke, how long have you been working?"
"Since before we were married.
I'm a project manager at Harwick.
I've been there nine years."
"And during the marriage — household expenses, mortgage payments, renovations, anything like that?"
"We split everything.
Joint account.
I transferred my half every month."
"Do you have records of those transfers?"
"Seven years of bank statements, yes."
Dana reached across the table and squeezed my hand once.
"Good," Paul said.
"That's very good.
Now — the furniture they tried to remove yesterday.
You said some of it was yours before the marriage?"
"The dining table.
A bookcase.
My grandmother's rocking chair — they didn't get to that one.
And my laptop."
"Do you have documentation?
Receipts, photos, anything dated before the marriage?"
"I have photos.
I moved into this house from my apartment and I did a walkthrough video for the insurance company.
It's all in there."
A pause on his end.
I could hear him writing.
"Brooke, I want you to send me that video today.
And I want you to photograph every item currently in that house before anything else moves.
Can you do that?"
"I'll do it this morning."
"One more thing." His voice shifted slightly.
"The woman who came to your house yesterday and presented that document — Colleen.
She's not a party to the divorce filing.
She had no legal standing to show you that document or to direct those movers.
If she attempts to enter the property again, you can call the police.
You don't have to let her in."
I thought about the way she'd stood on my porch.
The way she'd said *this isn't finished.*
"She'll be back," I said.
"Probably," Paul said.
"Let her knock."
After I hung up, Dana looked at me.
"How are you doing?"
"I don't know yet." I picked up the coffee.
It was cold.
"Eight months, Dana.
He was with someone else for eight months and she knew for six of them.
She sat at my table at Thanksgiving.
She let me cook for her."
"I know."
"She moved my things around my own house.
She threw away my plants.
She made Ethan think I was the difficult one." I set the cup down.
"She was clearing me out.
Slowly.
Getting him used to the idea that I didn't belong here."
Dana was quiet for a moment.
"She underestimated you," she said finally.
"She thought I'd be alone yesterday.
She thought I'd see the document and panic and leave."
"And instead you called me."
"And instead I called you."
Dana leaned back in her chair.
"So what do we do today?"
I stood up.
"We document everything in this house.
Then I call my own attorney."
"You don't want to use Paul?"
"Paul is family.
I need someone Ethan's never met, never heard of, and has no reason to go easy on." I picked up my phone.
"Do you know anyone?"
Dana smiled.
May you like
It was a particular smile — the one she'd had since we were children when she knew something useful.
"Actually," she said, "I do."
