“She had me sign documents. Said it was temporary. Said it was for stability.” He swallowed. “Her parents handled the lawyers. I trusted them.”
“They changed the locks. Filed a restraining order. Claimed I was mentally unstable.”
“And the startup?” I asked.
He finally looked up.
“The money you invested,” he said, his voice breaking. “They moved it. Labeled it marital restructuring. I didn’t even know until it was gone.”
Her family had money. Influence. The kind that hides behind paperwork while ruining lives silently.
“I lost the house,” he said. “The business. My reputation. I can’t fight them. If I do, they’ll try to take the boys for good.”
I watched my son fold in on himself, and something inside me went cold and clear.
I reached across the table and gripped his wrist.
“Maybe you can’t fight them alone,” I said evenly. “But you’re not alone.”
