Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
“On the grounds that you are unable to manage the five million dollar distribution due to your psychological state,” James said. “And they are planning to file it on November fourteenth.”
“The day before the trust clears,” I said.
I stared at the dates on the papers, my mind tracing the timeline back through the long months of my mourning.
The first entry in the medical log was written weeks before Monica had even mentioned her pregnancy to me.
He had begun documenting my sadness while we were still trying to have our own child.
“He didn’t just start this when he met Monica,” I said, looking up at James.
“No,” James said, his gravelly voice flat. “He planned your entire breakdown before she even got pregnant.”
He had sat across from me at our kitchen table, holding my hand while I cried, telling me that we would get through the loss together.
Then he had gone into his office, closed the door, and logged the hours I spent weeping as evidence for a court.
“The counselor’s reports are the key,” James said. “They are designed to show a pattern of permanent cognitive decline brought on by trauma.”
