Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Samantha, my lawyer, spoke up firmly. “Your marital issues with Abigail have nothing to do with your legal financial obligations to your children.”
When my full financial audit was revealed on the table, showing my private business earnings, Gareth turned completely pale. “Did you really earn all of that money from your little computer job?”
“Yes, I earned it all from my computer work,” I replied steadily.
Gertrude, who had insisted on attending the meeting, glared at me like I was a criminal. “So you had all this extra cash hidden away while we were struggling? Why were you not giving more to this family?”
Samantha immediately stepped in, pointing to the documents. “According to these verified bank records, Abigail was already paying over seventy percent of your family’s total living costs.”
Gertrude fell completely silent, unable to utter another word.
Then Samantha presented the financial trace regarding the life insurance policy left by Gareth’s late father.
Gertrude turned to her son instantly. “Gareth, what is she talking about? Where is your father’s insurance money?”
Gareth stared down at his shoes, refusing to make eye contact.
“Gareth, answer me right now,” Gertrude demanded, her voice cracking. “Where is my retirement money?”
“It is gone,” Gareth whispered quietly.
“What do you mean it is gone?” Gertrude gasped out. “What did you spend it on?”
“I spent it on my custom truck, personal expenses, and clearing my credit cards,” Gareth confessed under his breath.
Gertrude slumped back into her chair in absolute horror, realizing that her son was not the selfless provider she had bragged about for years. He was a financially irresponsible man who had used my hard work to cover his secret reckless spending while consuming his mother’s safety net.
We officially packed our belongings and moved into our new apartment on January tenth. I deliberately left behind all the heavy furniture to avoid petty arguments, taking only our clothes, personal mementos, books, my computer equipment, and my nineteen budget notebooks
In our new home, Brendan had his own quiet study space, Chloe mounted her sheet music proudly near a sunny window, Paige set up her stuffed animals on her new bedroom shelves, and I set up my desk in a bright corner of the living room.
On our very first night, we ordered takeout pizza and sat together on the carpet surrounded by unpacked moving boxes. When Chloe accidentally dropped a slice, she let out a bright laugh before suddenly clamping her hand over her mouth in panic.
“I am so sorry, Mom,” Chloe whispered nervously.
We all stopped and looked at her in silence. “Why on earth are you apologizing, sweetie?” I asked softly.
May you like
Chloe looked around the peaceful room, realizing where she was, and burst into a loud, beautiful laugh that filled the entire space. Paige joined in right away, and in that moment, I realized how toxic our old home had been, a place where even childhood joy required permission.
Our peaceful new life continued smoothly for a week until my phone began ringing incessantly one Saturday afternoon. It was Gareth calling repeatedly, followed by calls from Gertrude, followed by dozens of urgent text messages demanding my assistance.
