Chapter 6
Three weeks before the divorce hearing, Daniel’s lawyer called Hale.
He wanted to settle.
Hale put him on speakerphone so I could hear.
“Mr. Hale,” the lawyer said, his voice tired. “My clients are willing to drop all claims to the condo. They’ll sign any papers you want. No contest divorce. All they ask is that Ms. Carter drops the criminal charges and pays them a one-time settlement of $10,000. They’ll leave Austin and never bother her again.”
I laughed out loud.
$10,000?
They’d tried to steal my home, broken my head, stolen thousands of dollars worth of my things, and now they wanted me to pay them?
“Absolutely not,” I said, before Hale could even answer.
“Tell them no. Tell them if they want to settle, they pay me every cent they owe, plus interest. And they still face the criminal charges. No exceptions.”
The lawyer sighed.
“I told them that’s what you’d say,” he said. “They’re not… they’re not very reasonable people. I’ve tried to explain to them that they have no case, but they won’t listen. They think if they keep lying, someone will believe them.”
He paused. “For what it’s worth, Ms. Carter, I’ve seen the footage. I’m sorry for what they did to you. They deserve everything they get.”
Then he hung up.
Hale leaned back in his chair, grinning.
“Told you they were desperate,” he said. “That lawyer is going to quit any day now. He doesn’t want to be associated with this mess.”
He was right.
Three days later, we got an email: Daniel’s lawyer had filed a motion to withdraw from the case.
He said his clients had “consistently lied to him” and “refused to follow legal advice.”
The judge granted it immediately.
Now Daniel, Linda, and Hannah had to represent themselves, or hire a public defender.
They couldn’t afford a private lawyer—all their money was gone, spent on bail, the first lawyer, and trying to save their reputations online.
They ended up with a public defender who’d been out of law school for less than a year.
Hale almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
That same week, we got more bad news for them.
Detective Miller called, his voice excited.
“We found Hannah’s online listings,” he said.
“All the things she stole from you—your mom’s pearls, your dad’s watch, the record collection, the purses. She was selling them on eBay and Facebook Marketplace under a fake name. We traced the IP address straight to her apartment. We have proof of every single sale. We’re adding felony theft charges to the list. That’s another 2-5 years right there if she’s convicted.”
I felt a flicker of something then.
Not pity. Never pity.
Just… sadness.
Sad that they’d thrown their whole lives away for a condo that was never theirs.
Sad that they’d chosen hate and greed over love and decency.
But the sadness didn’t last long.
I thought of the plate hitting my head.
I thought of Dad’s voice, telling me to fight.
I thought of all the nights I’d cried myself to sleep because they’d made me feel like I was worth nothing.
They’d made their choices.
Now they had to live with them.
The next two weeks flew by.
Hale and I spent every day going over the case, making sure every piece of evidence was perfect.
We made copies of the trust documents, the deed, the security footage, the medical records, the police reports, the lawyer letter, the proof of Hannah’s thefts, the screenshots of their social media lies, the witness statements from the neighbors.
We stacked it all into a binder so thick it barely closed.
“By the time we’re done with this hearing,” Hale said, tapping the binder, “the judge is going to be so sick of hearing about Daniel’s family he’ll sign anything we put in front of him.”
Two days before the hearing, there was a knock on my hotel door.
I looked through the peephole.
It was Daniel.
Alone.
My blood ran cold.
The restraining order said he couldn’t come within 500 feet of me.
He was standing right outside my door.
I grabbed my phone, ready to call 911, when he spoke, his voice muffled through the wood.
“Clara,” he said. “Please. I just want to talk. Five minutes. That’s all. I’m not here to hurt you. I swear.”
I didn’t open the door.
“Go away, Daniel,” I said, my voice steady. “You’re violating the restraining order. If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”
He leaned his forehead against the door. I heard him sniffle, like he was crying.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking.
“I’m so sorry, Clara. I never meant for any of this to happen. Mom… she manipulated me. She made me do it. She said if I didn’t get the condo, she’d disown me. I was weak. I’m so weak. I love you, Clara. I’ve always loved you. Please. Just give me one more chance. I’ll leave Mom and Hannah. I’ll get a job. I’ll be the husband you deserve. Please.”
I closed my eyes.
For a split second, I almost believed him.
I remembered the boy I’d fallen in love with, the one who’d brought me flowers on our first date, who’d held my hand through Dad’s chemo, who’d promised to love me forever.
But then I remembered the footage.
His face, twisted with rage, throwing that plate at my head.
His voice, cold as ice, admitting the whole marriage was a scam.
That was the real Daniel.
The sweet boy I’d loved had never existed. He’d just been a mask.
“I don’t believe you,” I said, my voice clear and strong.
“You had three years to be a good husband. You chose to hurt me instead. Now go. Before I call the cops.”
He stood there for another five minutes, begging, crying, promising to change.
Then I heard his footsteps walk away.
I slid down the door, my heart racing, and called Hale.
He was at the hotel in ten minutes, furious.
“He’s going to jail for this,” he said, pulling out his phone to call Detective Miller.
“Violating a restraining order is a mandatory 48 hours in lockup. Maybe this will finally teach him to stay away.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For everything.”
May you like
Hale wrapped his arm around me.
“Anytime, kiddo,” he said. “That’s what family’s for.”
