I slid across the table the printed screenshot of Ellie’s text admitting she had faked the pregnancy. Ms. Coleman read it, lips pressed into a thin professional line.
“I want Jacob to receive the full trust amount,” I said. “But only if he meets with me in person to acknowledge what’s happened, and only if he files for divorce.”
She blinked. “That’s a strong condition.”
“She’s a strong threat,” I replied.
“And if he refuses,” I added, “the money goes to someone who actually stood up for me. Someone who told me the truth.” I slid another paper forward. Rachel’s name was at the top.
Ms. Coleman smiled. “I’ll draft it today.”
That afternoon, I sent Jacob a photo of the trust paperwork. Five minutes later, he called me back.
“Come here,” I told him. “Talk to me.”
When he arrived, he looked exhausted and thinner. He stepped inside, closed the door, and stood like a boy who knew he was about to be scolded.
“I knew about the pregnancy,” he admitted quietly. “I found the test in the trash. It was unused. But I let myself believe anyway, because if she was lying, then I’d ruined everything for nothing. If she was telling the truth, then maybe you were the problem, not me.”