Chapter 4
The next few days were a blur.
Sarah filed the divorce papers. The restraining order was granted. Graham was ordered to stay at least five hundred feet away from the house and from Harper's campus.
He called me. Over and over. I didn't answer.
He texted. Long, rambling messages about how sorry he was. How he'd made a mistake. How we could work it out.
I didn't reply.
Harper went back to school. I drove her myself, just to make sure Graham didn't try to intercept her.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked her as we pulled up to her dorm.
She nodded. "I think so. Sarah said the restraining order means he can't come near me. Right?"
"Right," I said. "And if he does? You call me. You call campus police. You call anyone. Just don't go near him alone."
She leaned over and hugged me. "Thanks, Mom. For everything."
"Anytime, baby," I said.
I watched her walk into the dorm. She looked small. But her shoulders were straighter than they'd been when she came home.
She was going to be okay.
We both were.
---
I went home and started going through the house.
I found things I'd never noticed before.
A second phone, hidden in the back of Graham's sock drawer. Burner. No contacts saved. But the call log was full of calls to Vanessa. Sometimes three or four times a day.
Credit card statements I'd never seen. Charges for jewelry. For a car. For rent on an apartment in the same town as the college.
Hotel receipts. Dinner receipts. Vacation receipts.
Graham had been living two lives. And I'd been paying for half of it.
I made copies of everything. Sent them all to Sarah.
She called me back the same day.
"This is good," she said. "Really good. The dissipation argument is going to be strong. He's spent almost $120,000 on Vanessa and Ethan in the last three years. Rent. Car payments. Tuition. Clothes. Vacations. Even a down payment on a house."
My blood ran cold.
"A house?"
"Yeah," Sarah said. "He put forty thousand dollars down on a small house in College Station last year. In Vanessa's name."
I felt sick.
Graham had been complaining about money for years. Telling me we couldn't afford to go on vacation. Telling Harper she needed to be more careful with her spending. Telling me I bought too many groceries.
All while he was buying another woman a house.
"We're going to get that money back," Sarah said. "Every penny. Plus interest. Plus penalties. And then we're going after half of everything else he's been hiding."
I thought about the life I'd lived for the last three years. The sacrifices I'd made. The way I'd clipped coupons and shopped at thrift stores and told Harper she couldn't have new clothes because "money was tight."
While Graham was living a whole other life.
"Make him pay," I said, my voice cold.
"Oh, I will," Sarah promised.
---
That night, there was a knock on my door.
I looked through the peephole.
It was Ethan.
He was alone. He looked nervous. He was holding a piece of paper.
I hesitated. Then I opened the door.
"Ethan," I said. "You shouldn't be here. The restraining order—"
"I know," he said quickly. "It's for Graham. Not me. I checked. And I didn't tell him I was coming. No one knows I'm here."
He held out the piece of paper.
"I brought this," he said. "It's everything I have. Bank statements. Text messages. Emails. All the stuff Graham sent me. All the stuff he told my mom. I thought... I thought you might need it for the divorce."
I stared at him.
"Why are you helping us?" I asked.
He looked down at his feet.
"Because he lied to me too," he said. "He told me you knew about me. That you were okay with everything. That Harper and I were friends. That I just couldn't meet her yet because she was shy."
He looked up, and his eyes were wet.
"He told me we were going to be a family. All of us. That he was just waiting for the right time to introduce us. And then today... when I saw Harper's face... I realized he was never going to do that. He was never going to choose. He was just going to keep lying to everyone forever."
He held out the papers again.
"I don't want his money," he said. "I don't want his house. I just... I want to know my sister. If she'll have me."
I looked at this boy. Graham's son. Harper's brother.
He was just as much a victim as we were.
"Come in," I said.
He stepped inside. I led him to the kitchen and made him coffee. He sat at the table, his hands folded, while I looked through the papers he'd brought.
They were damning.
Text messages from Graham to Vanessa, promising her they'd be together soon.
Emails about the house. About the car. About how to hide the money from me.
A spreadsheet Graham had made, detailing exactly how much he was spending on each family.
Harper's total for the last year: $12,400.
Ethan and Vanessa's total: $58,200.
I felt a rage so hot it burned.
"Thank you," I said to Ethan. "This is going to help us a lot."
He nodded. "Can I... can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Does Harper hate me?" he asked, his voice small.
I thought about my daughter. About how hurt she'd been. About how she'd asked if she could talk to him.
"No," I said. "She doesn't hate you. She's just hurt. And confused. And she needs time."
"I understand," he said. He stood up to leave. "Just... tell her I'm sorry. For everything. Even though it's not my fault. I'm still sorry."
"I will," I said.
He walked to the door. Then he stopped.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I think you're amazing. The way you're handling this. The way you're protecting Harper. If Graham had been half the parent you are... none of this would have happened."
Then he left.
I stood in the doorway, watching him walk to his car.
May you like
Graham had made a lot of mistakes.
But Ethan wasn't one of them.
