Chapter 8: What David Did Next
He fired Garrett.
Karen told me two days after the notary finding came through.
David had dismissed his attorney and retained no one new — at least not yet.
His side had gone quiet in a way that felt different from strategy.
It felt like a man standing in a field after a fire, looking at what was left.
I didn't hear from him directly for six days.
On the seventh day, he called Karen's office and asked for a meeting.
Not a legal proceeding.
Not a mediated session.
A meeting, in Karen's conference room, with both of us present and both attorneys — Karen on my side, and a new attorney David had retained, a quiet woman named Sandra who Karen said had a reputation for settlement rather than combat.
I agreed.
The meeting was on a Tuesday morning.
Ruth drove Mia to school so I could go straight from the apartment.
I wore the same grey jacket I had worn to the courthouse.
I didn't think about it until I was already in the elevator.
David was already in the conference room when I arrived.
Sandra was beside him.
He stood when I walked in — not a formal gesture, just a reflex — and then sat back down.
Karen and I sat across from them.
Sandra spoke first.
"My client would like to make a statement before we discuss terms.
He's asked that it not be interrupted."
Karen looked at me.
I nodded.
David looked at the table for a moment.
Then he looked at me.
"I knew about the meeting," he said.
"The one Patricia photographed.
I was there.
I heard what my mother proposed, and I didn't stop it." He stopped.
Started again.
"I told myself I was protecting Mia.
That if things between us fell apart — if you left — having a plan in place meant she wouldn't be caught in the middle.
I told myself it was practical." He paused.
"I knew it wasn't.
I knew what it was.
I just — I didn't stop it."
The room was very quiet.
"The forgery," I said.
"Did you sign off on it?"
"I didn't forge anything myself.
I told my mother I would not participate directly.
She took that as permission to proceed." His jaw tightened.
"I understand that's not a meaningful distinction."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
Sandra slid a document across the table.
"My client is prepared to withdraw all custody claims and consent to a parenting arrangement structured entirely around Mia's stability and your preferences.
He is also prepared to sign a full financial disclosure, acknowledge the property transfer as void, and make no further claim on the house."
I looked at the document.
Karen was already reading it.
"And Eleanor?" I asked.
David's expression shifted.
"My mother and I are no longer in contact."
I looked at him.
I wanted to know if that was true — not legally, not strategically, but actually true.
Whether something in him had finally broken from her, or whether this was another calculation.
"Mia asked about you," I said.
"Last week.
She asked if you were still her dad."
Something crossed his face that I hadn't seen there in a long time.
"What did you tell her?" he said.
"I told her yes.
Because it's true, and because she needed to hear it." I looked down at the document, then back at him.
"She also asked why Grandma Eleanor had hurt her.
I didn't have a good answer for that."
He didn't say anything.
"She's six," I said.
"She's going to need one eventually.
From you.
Not from me."
He nodded.
Once.
Slowly.
Karen touched my arm.
"Do you want to take a few minutes to review the terms?"
"Yes," I said.
We stepped into the hallway.
Karen pulled the door closed.
"It's a strong offer," she said quietly.
"Full financial disclosure, house acknowledged as yours, no custody fight.
Sandra's reputation holds — this is a genuine settlement, not a delay tactic."
"What about Eleanor?"
"Separately, the notary referral is already with the state attorney's office.
Eleanor's name is in the filing.
Whatever happens there is outside this agreement." Karen looked at me.
"This agreement is about you and Mia.
Eleanor's consequences are coming regardless of what you sign today."
I looked through the narrow window in the conference room door.
David was sitting with his hands on the table, not talking to Sandra.
Just sitting.
May you like
"All right," I said.
"Let's go back in."
