“Daddy said I should like her, because she’s going to be my new mommy one day. I don’t want a new mommy.”
That was when I finally got it. I felt like my world had flipped, and the worst part was my little girl had no idea how her words broke my heart.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile through my racing thoughts. “Thank you for telling me the truth, baby. You did the right thing.” I hugged her tight, hiding my shaky hands.
“Are you mad at me, Mommy?” she asked, voice muffled against my shoulder. Her question almost broke me.
“Never,” I whispered. “You’re the bravest little girl in the world for telling me.”
When she was asleep that night, I went straight to Garrett’s home office. My heart pounded as I opened drawers, flipping through papers with shaky fingers.
And then I found something that explained it all.
Tucked in a plain folder were photo booth pics of him kissing a blonde woman, their faces close like happy teens. The happy look on his face was something I hadn’t seen in years.
Tessa. This had to be Tessa.
That’s when I remembered all the weird stuff lately. The late nights “at work.” The new cologne. The way he’d been distant, always checking his phone. It all clicked.
He was planning a life without me. And he wasn’t even hiding it good.
When I checked our joint bank account, my stomach dropped. The numbers blurred with tears.
Most of the money was gone, moved to accounts in his name only. The money rug was pulled out from under me, just like the marriage.
I didn’t want Nora to see me break down, so after tucking her in, I went to the garage, sat on the cold floor, and cried till my throat hurt. The quiet space swallowed every sob.
When Garrett came home late, smelling like perfume and beer, I acted normal. I smiled, kissed his cheek, and asked about his “day at work.”
“Just the usual,” he said, not looking at me. “Long meetings, boring clients.” The lie came out too easy.
He bought my act completely.
But the next morning, while he left for work, I took a personal day. Instead of going to work, I drove straight to a lawyer’s office. My hands shook on the wheel the whole way.
The lawyer, Mr. Peterson, was a nice guy in his fifties who listened as I told him about the photos, the money moves, and Nora’s confession about missing school. He nodded serious and pulled out a yellow notepad.