I slipped out of the room.
Inside sat a woman I didn’t recognize, maybe in her 50s, with a folder in front of her.
She looked up as if she’d been expecting me.
“Christina, you came.”
My chest tightened.
“I’m about to call David down here,” I snapped. “Start talking. What’s going on here?” My voice shook as I stammered at the end.
The woman didn’t react to my tone.
“What’s going on here?”
Instead, she slid the folder across the table toward me.
“I’m Sandra, Chloe’s mother.”
That stopped me.
“I got your number from my daughter before David divorced her. Chloe’s been following your social media under a different account to keep tabs on him. When we saw you were remarrying him, we knew we had to act. But Chloe knew you wouldn’t listen to her, so I came myself.”
My jaw dropped open.
“I got your number from my daughter.”
“What do you want?” I asked after collecting myself.
“I want to help you before David damages your life again, as he did to Chloe’s. You think he came back because he changed?”
I sat down, reached for the folder, and opened it. The moment I saw what was inside, everything shifted.
The first page was my bank statement.
I kept flipping through the pages.
- Loan records.
- Business filings.
- Notices I didn’t fully understand yet.
