Chapter 6
The months leading up to the criminal trial were the hardest of my life.
Even with the restraining order, even with all the evidence on my side, the stress was constant.
I had nightmares almost every night.
Nightmares of him breaking into my apartment.
Nightmares of him burning the restaurant down.
Nightmares of the slap, over and over, the crack of it echoing in my head until I woke up screaming, sweating, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest.
I threw myself into work.
Opened early.
Closed late.
Expanded the menu.
Hired five more staff.
Renovated the back patio.
Anything to keep my mind busy, to keep the nightmares away.
My staff noticed.
They took turns walking me to my car every night.
Left little notes of encouragement on my desk.
Brought me coffee when I forgot to eat.
They were more than employees.
They were family.
One night, I was closing up alone, going over the books in my office, when I heard a soft knock on the door.
My dad.
He was holding a paper bag from the bakery down the street.
My favorite chocolate chip cookies.
He’d been quiet through all of this.
Hadn’t said much, just showed up, fixed things around the restaurant, hugged me when I needed it.
He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, sat down across from me.
Pushed the cookies toward me.
“Your mom sent these.
Said you’ve been working too hard.
Forgetting to eat.”
I smiled, took one.
It was still warm.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Stared at his hands.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Lila.
I’m so fucking sorry.”
I frowned.
“Dad, what are you—”
“I failed you.”
He looked up, and his eyes were wet.
I’d never seen my dad cry.
Not once in my whole life.
“When you were little, I told you I’d always protect you.
Said no man would ever hurt you, not on my watch.
And then that son of a bitch came along.
And I liked him.
I trusted him.
I let him marry my little girl.
And I stood by while he hurt you.
Stole from you.
Humiliated you.
I didn’t see it.
I didn’t protect you.
And I will never, ever forgive myself for that.”
My throat tightened.
I got up, walked around the desk, sat down next to him, hugged him tight.
He hugged me back, so hard it hurt a little, like he was scared I’d disappear if he let go.
“Dad.
Listen to me.
None of this is your fault.
He lied.
He lied to me, to you, to everyone.
He was good at it.
The best liar I’ve ever met.
You didn’t fail me.
You’re here now.
That’s all that matters.”
He pulled back, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Your mom and I talked.
We want to help.
We’ve got some savings.
If you need anything for the trial, for the restaurant, anything at all—”
I shook my head.
“I don’t need your money, Dad.
I’ve got the business.
I’ve got Jake.
I’ve got you and Mom.
That’s more than enough.”
He nodded.
Sat quiet for another minute.
Then he said, soft, “I’m proud of you, you know that?
The way you’ve handled all this.
The way you’ve stood up for yourself.
For those other women.
You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.
Stronger than me.
Stronger than anyone I know.”
I cried then.
Not sad tears.
Happy ones.
Relieved ones.
For so long, I’d thought I was alone in this.
Thought I had to carry it all by myself.
But I wasn’t.
I had my dad.
My mom.
Jake.
My staff.
Hundreds of women I’d never even met, rooting for me.
I wasn’t alone.
I’d never been alone.
We sat there for another hour, eating cookies, talking about nothing and everything.
About when I was little, and I’d set up a “restaurant” in our backyard, serving mud pies to the neighborhood kids.
About how he’d always known I’d do something big.
When he left, he kissed my forehead, told me he loved me, told me he’d be at the trial every single day, no matter what.
I locked up the restaurant after he left.
Walked to my car alone, for the first time in months, without looking over my shoulder.
The nightmares didn’t come that night.
For the first time in a long time, I slept straight through until morning.
Woke up feeling lighter.
Stronger.
Ready for whatever came next.
The trial started two weeks later.
It lasted five days.
Five long, hard days.
His lawyer did exactly what Jake had warned.
Tore into me on the stand.
Asked me about every fight we’d ever had.
Every time I’d raised my voice.
Every time I’d said I was too tired for sex after a long shift.
Tried to make me sound like a monster.
I didn’t break.
I answered every question calm, steady, honest.
I looked the jury dead in the eye when I talked about the slap.
When I talked about finding the stolen money.
When I talked about him breaking into my apartment, screaming that he’d kill me.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t yell.
I just told the truth.
And the jury listened.
Karen was called as a witness.
His lawyer tried to make her sound like an innocent bystander.
A woman who’d been fooled by his lies too.
But Jake cross-examined her.
And within ten minutes, he had her tangled in her own lies.
She accidentally admitted she’d known he was married the whole time.
Admitted she’d known the money he was spending on her was stolen from the restaurant.
Admitted she’d helped him forge my signature on the loan papers.
By the time she stepped off the stand, her face was bright red, the jury was staring at her like she was something they’d stepped in, and even his own lawyer looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.
The jury deliberated for four hours.
We waited in the hallway.
My family around me.
The other three wives holding my hands.
My staff texting me every five minutes, asking for updates.
When the bailiff called us back in, my heart was hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The foreman stood up.
Held the verdict form in his hand.
“On the count of felony embezzlement, we find the defendant… guilty.”
A breath caught in my throat.
“On the count of forgery, we find the defendant… guilty.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“On the count of grand theft, we find the defendant… guilty.”
Jake squeezed my shoulder.
My mom cried, quiet, into my dad’s chest.
The judge sentenced him to three years in state prison.
Ordered him to pay back every single cent he’d stolen, plus interest, plus damages.
Karen was named a co-conspirator.
Ordered to sell her apartment, her jewelry, everything she had, to pay back her share.
No jail time for her, but a permanent criminal record.
She’d never be able to get a good job.
Never be able to rent a nice apartment.
Never be able to take out a loan.
She’d spend the rest of her life paying for what they’d done.
It was more than enough.
We walked out of the courthouse together.
My family.
My friends.
The women I’d fought beside.
The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and orange.
Reporters shouted questions.
I stopped, turned to the cameras, smiled.
“Justice was served today.
Not just for me.
For every woman who’s ever been made to feel small.
For every woman who’s ever been told she deserved to be hurt.
You don’t.
May you like
You deserve better.
And if I can do this, so can you.”
