She looks at it then up at me. "What's that?"
"Well, it's proof you can take to your lawyer. " My chest aches. I just want her to see I'm not a bad guy, that I really didn't meanto get sucked into Derek's scheme. "My guys put it together over the last two weeks."
Her eyes drop to the folder, but her expression stays blank now. Maybe I'm still crossing lines. I can't tell. Maybe she wants me to butt the hell out and not stay involved. I don’t work for her, after all. But how can I stand back knowing what that asshole plans to do and not help?
"Reilly organized everything chronologically," I tell her as I fold the folder open. "The first page is a summary. The calls to Helen line up with the dates she gave me, and the CPS complaint matches a call Derek made from his cell two days before Mrs. Finch showed up at your door."
She pulls the folder closer to herself and picks up the first page while I pour the coffee into both mugs and set hers beside her. She takes it without looking up, wrapping her hand around it out of habit. I watch her face go through several expressions, then the crease between her eyebrows deepens and her lips purse.
She flips to the second page and reads that one more slowly, tracing the highlighted numbers with her fingertip. I can see how she's trying to rationalize why her ex would do all of this. Some of the things I'm sure she never knew about, or if she did, she hadn't told me about it yet. I was gut-sick learning just how far that bastard would go to discredit who she is as a mom and a person.
"He called the school?" she asks, looking up at me in shock. "What did he tell them?"
"Mick's still running that down, but based on the pattern, it's probably the same thing he told everyone else. That you're medicated and unstable." I frown and run a hand over my face,then sip the coffee to disguise how upset I really am. I don’t want her to see my temper and get afraid of me, but my God, I could really hurt that man right now.
"I can't believe they would take this seriously. I’m a good mom." She sets the page down carefully and points at the banking information. "What about the wire transfers?"
"Derek set up a shell company four months ago. The only transactions on it are the payments for my house deposit and rent. Torres's guy says it was created specifically to hide those payments from the custody financials." This is the part I'm afraid of her learning, that he paid for everything, including my living arrangements. It threatens to spark the same animosity between us that we just moved past.
"Four months." She flips over the wire transfer page and reads more of the incriminating details. "He's been planning this since before you moved in?" I'd like to tell her he's probably been plotting this since the instant that judge gave her full custody, but I bite my tongue. I can see how hard her positive exterior is straining. She's going to crack at some point and when she does, I'm afraid it'll hurt her so badly.
"The first call to the school was five months ago."
She drops the paper and picks up the mug, staring out the window over the backyard. I swear I see tears brimming in her eyes which she fights back, but there's nothing I can do. I'd honestly pull her into my arms and hold her if she wanted me to, but that part of this is broken now. She's not clinging to me for comfort the way she did that day Derek confronted her at soccer practice. So I stand stoically, listening to the noise of Ethan's video games giving her space to process this information.
"So I can take this to my lawyer?" she asks, turning to look up at me.
"That's exactly what Reilly is researching for. Everything in that folder is documented cleanly enough to submit as evidence, and we're still pulling more."
"We…" she says, narrowing her eyes. "You keep saying we."
"My guys from the Corps. Reilly, Dawson, Mick, Torres. They're all helping me build my security firm—which wasn't a lie— and I have them all working on this."
"Why would they do that? They don't know me." Setting the coffee down, she turns to lean on the cupboard, facing outward. The heels of her hands plant on the counter, and she looks confused. "I didn't hire you all…"
"I fucked up, Liv. And I want to make it right. They work for me, so…"
She picks up the phone records again and runs her finger down the list of highlighted calls. "That's very kind of you, but it's not necessary. Thank you for giving this to me, though." Her shoulders are drooping now, and the fake happy face is gone. "I'd like you to leave now. I need time to think about this."
"I'm not giving up, Olivia. I'm going to make this right, even if you want nothing to do with me at all anymore." I turn to go, and I'm surprised she doesn't stop me, though I don’t know why. Wishful thinking, maybe.
When I get back to my house, I sit at my kitchen counter and pull up my email. I've got to keep digging. I know Derek has to have some sort of record of other horrible life choices we can exploit. I just haven't found them yet.
21
OLIVIA
Ethan's been at Derek's since Friday afternoon for his holiday weekend visitation, and the house feels hollow without him. It's the first long weekend without him here since Caleb moved in, then broke my heart, and I'm not even sure what to do with myself. I've already reorganized the pantry and mopped the floors. I suppose I could scrub the bathtub, but I know I should be taking advantage of this time to relax and unwind without having to be responsible for anyone but me.
Derek sort of ruined that for me, though. Even the wine I'm sipping as I sit next to my empty plate after finishing dinner makes me feel guilty and nervous. Anything I do for myself brings a wave of shame and guilt that I'm not focusing enough on my son and being selfish. And add to that the anxiety that Derek will find out I'm drinking and use that to strengthen his smear campaign.
When the bell rings, I stand and shuffle to the door, half expecting it to be Caleb here to apologize again. After he came over to help me carry in groceries and gave me that folder of proof that Derek's a total jerk, I don't know what to think. Thedraw to him is still so strong, and I still feel like I want him, despite everything. I just don't know how to forgive him.
So when I open the door and see a process server and not my next-door neighbor, I'm shocked.
"Olivia Bennett?"
"That's me," I mumble, keeping my voice bright even though my stomach just dropped.
