Chapter 2: The Folder on the Table
Part 2 ⬇️
I thought that was the end of it.
It wasn't.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it — but something made me pick up.
"You think you're so smart." Her voice was different now.
The confidence was gone.
What was left sounded like something closer to desperation.
"I'm not doing this," I said.
"He told me you were cold.
That you stopped caring years ago.
That the marriage was already over."
I sat down slowly.
"He told you that?"
"He told me a lot of things.
Including that the house is in his name."
I felt something shift in my chest — not fear.
Recognition.
Because the house wasn't in his name anymore.
Hadn't been for eleven weeks.
My attorney had made sure of that.
But she didn't know that.
And neither did he.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"That's actually very helpful."
Silence.
Then: "What does that mean?"
I hung up.
I set the phone face-down on the table and looked at the folder sitting next to it.
The one my attorney had prepared.
The one with his signature on documents he hadn't read carefully enough.
He thought he was protected.
He had no idea what I'd already done.
---
What was inside that folder — and what did he sign without reading?
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