Chapter 11 - UNSTABLE
The petition was thirty-eight pages.
I read the first seven and threw up.
Not from postpartum nausea.
From rage.
Derek described me as “emotionally volatile.”
“Financially irresponsible.”
“Possibly suffering from untreated mental health concerns.”
He claimed I had “abducted” our newborn daughter.
He claimed I refused necessary medical care by avoiding Riverside.
He claimed Rachel had manipulated me into leaving.
Then came the worst sentence.
“Petitioner fears Respondent may present a danger to the child.”
I stared at it until the words blurred.
Rachel took the papers away.
“Stop.”
“He’s saying I’ll hurt Emily.”
“I know.”
“He’s saying that to a judge.”
“I know.”
“He planned this.”
“Yes.”
I began pacing.
“He gets to ignore me for nine months, leave me during labor, steal my identity, forge my signature, track us, break into storage, and now he gets to call me dangerous?”
“Megan.”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“No, I am so tired of being calm so everybody can believe I’m sane.”
Rachel grabbed both my shoulders.
“You don’t have to be calm for me.”
I started sobbing.
Not graceful tears.
Not quiet movie tears.
Ugly, furious, animal crying.
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I loved him.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I kept defending him.”
“I know.”
“I hate that part of me still hears his voice telling me I’m overreacting.”
Rachel pulled me against her.
“That part is going to get quieter.”
The emergency hearing was scheduled for Monday.
Three days.
Janet built our response like she was preparing for war.
Hospital records showing I arrived in active labor.
Officer Collins’ report.
Screenshots of Derek’s messages.
Kelly’s statement.
Photos of the tracker.
The forged deed.
The fraudulent credit card.
The stolen storage files.
The financial transfers.
And then Janet asked me a question.
“Do you have any recordings?”
“No.”
“Doorbell footage?”
“At the Columbus house?”
“Yes.”
I froze.
Derek installed security cameras everywhere.
Front door.
Garage.
Kitchen.
Living room.
He said they made the house safer.
I suddenly remembered something.
The system stored audio for thirty days in the cloud.
Rachel looked at me.
“Do you still have login access?”
“I might.”
We opened the app.
Derek had changed the password.
But he had forgotten the backup account.
Mine.
I logged in.
The footage from the night I left was still there.
7:14 p.m.
Kitchen camera.
Me bent over during a contraction.
Derek checking his watch.
7:16.
My voice:
“They’re five minutes apart.”
His voice:
“I have dinner.”
Then the bills hitting the counter.
“Taxi money.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
I kept watching.
At 7:20, after I left, Derek picked up my wedding ring.
He stared at it.
Then he called someone.
“Hey,” he said.
A pause.
“No, she left.”
Another pause.
Then he laughed.
“Relax, Kelly. We still have dinner.”
I felt sick.
But the video continued.
At 11:32, Derek came home alone.
He was furious.
He walked into the kitchen with Richard.
His father.
Richard said, “You pushed too hard.”
Derek answered, “She’ll come back when she realizes she has no money.”
Richard said, “And if she doesn’t?”
Derek picked up my ring.
Then he said the sentence that changed the entire custody case.
May you like
“Then we use the file and make sure no judge gives her the kid.”
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