Chapter 5

I thought that blocking Charles would be enough to shut him out of my life entirely.

What I forgot was that between us still stood one contact I could never delete—his mother, Bertha.

Less than half an hour after I blocked Charles, Bertha's call came crashing in like a bomb.

"Sarah! You cruel woman. What have you done to Charlie? He came home and the apartment was completely empty. Where have you taken everything that belongs to this family?" Her voice was so sharp I could feel it piercing my eardrums.

"Bertha, I only took my own things."

"Your own things? What's your own things are you talking about? Every bite you eat, every piece of clothing on your back, everything you've ever had? Charlie worked himself to the bone for all of it.

"Now you think you can stand on your own two feet and ask for a divorce? And on top of that, you've put the house up for rent? Let me make something clear to you. Don't even think about it!"

"My parents covered the down payment on that apartment, and I've been the one making the mortgage payments all along. That gives me the right to say what happens to half of it."

"You ungrateful wretch! Charlie must have lost his mind to ever marry someone like you. Don't you dare go anywhere. I'm on my way over right now. We'll just see who tries to rent out a house that belongs to this family."

The phone slammed down on the other end with a violent crack.

I held onto my phone for a moment, then leaned back in my chair, drained.

I knew this was nowhere near over.

And sure enough, the agent called me again the next day, his voice heavy with embarrassment. "Ms. Hughes... has that family situation of yours been sorted out?

"Because yesterday, there was a woman making a huge scene right outside the property. She kept shouting that the house belongs to her son and that we had no business showing it to anyone, and she even smashed the rental sign we'd put up."

"I'm very sorry you've been dragged into this. Let me take care of it."

"So... should we keep the listing active, then?"

"Yes," I answered, without a moment's hesitation.

After hanging up, I sent Rachel a single message: [Find me a good lawyer. I'm getting ready to file for divorce.]

She replied almost instantly. "Holy shit. You're actually doing this? He won't sign an uncontested divorce?]

[His mother won't have it.]

[I knew that old harpy wasn't going to play nice. Don't worry. Leave it to me. I know this lawyer. Everyone in the business calls her the 'marriage terminator.' She specializes in dealing with the ones who drag their feet and refuse to cooperate.]

Once the lawyer stepped in, the picture became a lot clearer.

She explained that because the ownership of the apartment was under dispute, it would be unwise to push ahead with renting it out before the court had made a ruling.

As for the divorce, if Charles refused to give his consent, the court would most likely deny the petition on the first filing. That would mean waiting six months and then filing a second time.

"Which means," the lawyer concluded, "this could very well drag on for a long time."

"That's fine. I have time."

I didn't care how long it took. I only cared about how it would end.

*****

The days wore on, one after another, caught between the demands of my job and the endless tug-of-war.

At work, the project I was leading moved along smoothly and even earned me a word of praise from the leadership at Greyfield's local branch.

At home, however, the Grant family and I were locked in a legal battle that showed no signs of ending.

Bertha had hired a lawyer of her own and was taking an uncompromising stance, refusing to yield an inch.

Not only was she demanding that the apartment be awarded in its entirety to Charles, but she had also turned the tables on me by accusing me of concealing marital assets and was now asking for compensation on Charles' behalf for emotional distress.

Her justification was that I had left the house without permission and had willfully failed to fulfill my duties as a wife.

I read through the materials the lawyer sent over and felt a wave of anger mixed with sheer disbelief.

Charles himself never once made an appearance. He let his mother run the entire show, handing over every decision to her without a second thought.

He had become a ghost, hiding behind her back and silently endorsing every accusation and every smear she levelled against me.

Rachel was practically stamping her feet with fury on the other end of the line. "Where is their sense of decency? What's wrong with Charles? Did he just vanish into thin air?

"He's got his mother out there running around and throwing a tantrum for him, while he's busy posting that picture for the whole world to see. And she has the nerve to claim you walked out for no reason?

"He's the one fooling around behind your back, and now he wants to play the injured party?"

"Rachel, there's no point in getting into a fight with them. The court only cares about evidence."

"That photo of them together doesn't count as evidence?"

"My lawyer says all it proves is that they attended a social event together. There's no direct proof of anything inappropriate. Besides, Sophie made sure to leave a comment underneath, saying they're just work partners."

"Oh, give me a break. That woman is twisted and way too calculating."

"So right now, we're in a pretty weak position."

"Then what are we supposed to do? Just stand by and let them run wild?"

I paused for a few seconds before finally answering. "Rachel, do you remember that book I told you about? The copy of Surgical Anatomy I gave to Charles?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

"When I left, I had that book shipped to Greyfield along with everything else."

"Wait, you kept that thing? What for, nostalgia? I swear, Sarah, if you're starting to go soft on him..."

"There's something tucked inside that book."

"Something inside? Like what? Did you hide a gold bar in there?"

"Something worth more than a gold bar."

I didn't offer any further explanation. Some cards are best kept hidden until the very end.