Chapter 4 - The Shark
Her name was Diane Hastings, and she didn't offer me a tissue when I started crying in her mahogany-paneled office. She simply slid a notepad across the desk and said, "Tears don't win custody. Documentation does. Tell me everything."
For two hours, I laid my life bare. I told her about the punches. The gaslighting. The way he meticulously controlled the finances so I never had enough cash to leave.
Diane took notes with terrifying precision. "He thinks he's the smartest guy in the room," she murmured, tapping her pen. "Narcissists always do. That's how we'll break him. Did you take photos of the bruise today?"
"Claire did," I said.
"Good. Now, I checked the joint accounts before you arrived," Diane said, turning her monitor toward me. "He withdrew eighty percent of your shared savings at 8:00 A.M. this morning. He's trying to starve you out financially."
Panic seized my throat. "How am I going to pay for this? How am I going to feed Lily?"
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Diane offered a cold, predatory smile. "He made a rookie mistake. By draining the account after you left, he showed malicious financial intent. I'm filing an emergency ex parte motion for spousal support and a temporary restraining order based on domestic violence. By Friday, a judge will freeze his personal accounts, and he won't be able to buy a cup of coffee without court approval."
I felt a rush of something I hadn't felt in years: power.
