Chapter 8
The divorce trial was short.
Two days.
Mark didn’t leave anything to chance.
He brought all the evidence.
The moldy bread photos.
The credit card statements.
The forged life insurance policy.
The girls’ statements to CPS.
The hundreds of texts between Olivia and Chloe planning to kill me.
The testimony from the undercover FBI agent.
Olivia’s lawyer tried.
He really did.
He tried to say the texts were fake.
That the girls had been coached.
That the prenup was invalid because I’d forced Olivia to sign it.
But the prenup was ironclad.
Olivia had signed it with her own independent lawyer present.
It clearly stated that if she was found guilty of any criminal activity, or any abuse of the girls, she would get nothing.
Zero.
No alimony.
No house.
No cars.
No jewelry.
No money of any kind.
The judge didn’t even take an hour to deliberate.
He ruled in my favor on every single count.
The divorce was final.
Olivia got nothing.
I got full, sole legal and physical custody of Lily and Mia.
No visitation for Olivia.
Ever.
As the judge read the ruling, Olivia started screaming.
She stood up, knocking over her chair.
“This is unfair! He stole my life! I’m entitled to half of everything! Those girls are mine—”
Two bailiffs grabbed her.
She was already in custody, waiting for her criminal trial to start.
They led her out of the courtroom, still screaming.
She didn’t look at me once.
She didn’t look at the girls.
All she cared about was the money.
Mark clapped me on the back as we walked out.
“It’s over, Daniel. You won.”
I looked down at my girls.
The bailiff had given them both lollipops.
Blue for Lily.
Pink for Mia.
They were grinning, sticky sugar on their cheeks.
“We won,” I corrected him.
That night, we had a celebration dinner.
Sarah made lasagna.
My parents came over.
We opened a bottle of sparkling cider.
The girls clinked their plastic cups so hard I was afraid they’d break.
“To Daddy!” Lily yelled.
“To Daddy!” Mia echoed, spilling cider down her shirt.
I laughed.
“To us,” I said, raising my glass. “To our family. To being together. Forever.”
“Forever!” they yelled.
Later, after everyone left, I sat on the porch with Sarah.
It was a cold February night.
We could see the girls through the window, jumping on their beds in their princess pajamas.
“You did good, Daniel,” Sarah said, sipping her cider.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.
She smiled.
“Hey. That’s what family’s for.”
We sat there in silence for a while.
Watching the girls laugh.
Watching them be kids.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything. For being here. For loving them like they’re your own.”
She put her hand on my arm.
“They are my own. In every way that matters. And don’t you ever forget it.”
May you like
I didn’t.
I never would.
