Chapter 8: What Callum Didn't Know
My solicitor's name was Patrick.
He had handled my affairs for eleven years and he was not a man who used dramatic language.
When I finished explaining, he was quiet for four seconds.
"Send me everything Diane gave you," he said.
"Tonight."
"Is there a case?"
"There may be several." I heard him writing.
"The family court letter alone is actionable if we can demonstrate coordinated intent to deceive.
The financial strategy Callum outlined — depending on what's in those emails — could constitute conspiracy to commit fraud.
And if Rebecca made representations to you about her relationship status that induced you to enter an engagement, there are civil avenues worth examining."
"I don't want money," I said.
"I want to make sure Emily is protected."
"Then let's start there." A pause.
"Does Rebecca have any existing legal claim to Emily?
Any documentation naming her as a guardian or caregiver in any formal capacity?"
"No.
We weren't married."
"Good.
That simplifies things considerably." Another pause.
"Nathan — the school enrollment contract.
Did you sign anything?"
"No."
"Did Emily?"
"She's seven, Patrick."
"Of course.
I'm being thorough." He exhaled.
"All right.
Send me the documents.
I'll review them tonight and call you in the morning.
In the meantime — don't respond to Rebecca.
Don't respond to Callum if he contacts you.
And if anyone from that solicitor's office reaches out, forward it directly to me."
"Understood."
"One more thing." His voice shifted slightly.
"You said Diane kept copies.
Is she willing to make a formal statement?"
"She said yes."
"Then we're in a strong position." A brief pause.
"I'm sorry this happened.
Truly."
I thanked him and ended the call.
Emily was asleep.
I had checked on her twice since we got home — once when I put her to bed, once an hour later when I heard her turn over.
She was fine.
She was breathing.
She was in her own room with the small nightlight shaped like a star that she had chosen herself from a shop on the high street eight months ago.
I stood in the doorway for a moment.
Then my phone lit up with a message from a number I didn't recognize — different from Diane's.
*You should know that Diane isn't as clean as she's presenting herself.
Ask her why she really left Rebecca's employment.
Ask her what she took when she left.
She has her own reasons for doing this, and they're not the ones she told you.*
I stared at the message.
May you like
Then I forwarded it directly to Patrick.
And I went to bed.
