meet-up.”
“Good. In the interim, scrub them vigorously.”
With a click, Jillian was off the hook.
11:06 a.m.
“What is she doing here?” Jillian hissed at her attorney, then nodded toward Scott’s definitely pregnant assistant, Victoria.
Lutz shrugged. “Moral support.”
“Moral what?” Jillian’s voice was so loud, he had to shush her. “You mean ‘immoral support’ , don’t you?”
“Call it what you will. He’s trying to make a point.”
“Yeah, I get it. The point is that he knocked her up, and he’d rather be with her.” Jillian shifted her head away from the twins, so they wouldn’t see her cry.
Amelia and Addison had spotted Scott, too, because they squealed, “Da da! Dadadadadada! ”
Instinctively, he waved at them, but seeing Jillian’s glower, he turned his head in shame.
Good, Jillian thought. Stay away from us. And keep her away, too…
As if reading her mind, Scott smirked, stood up, and walked over.
But when he tried to pick up Addison, Jillian slapped his hand away. “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice trembled, but he shrank away at the threat.
“All rise,” the bailiff shouted.
Jillian looked up to see the judge had witnessed it all.
Including the girls crying for their father.
She sank into her chair, praying.
1:08 p.m.
It’s over, Jillian thought. For good. Just like that.
She’d been with Scott since their second year in college. She’d dropped out in her senior year in order to support him when his family had abandoned him.
They’d been a team through thin and thin. Team Scott and Jillian.
No, it now hit her: it had only been Team Scott.
Throughout the proceedings, his eyes went from the judge, or to Victoria.
Never to Jillian.
At the best time possible—for him —he had glanced longingly at the children: that time being when his attorney had asked for joint custody.
The twins hadn’t made it easy for Jillian to make her case for sole custody. Despite holding them both in her lap, they had squirmed and cried. At one point, Amelia had shouted, “Dada!” More of a command than a question.
At Jillian’s behest, Lutz had pointed out, “Your honor, Mr. Frederick works long hours, and practically seven days a week. The point is not to leave the children with a nanny, but to ensure they have their mother.”
“What will happen when their mother goes to work?” Scott’s lawyer countered.
I wouldn’t have to, if Scott did the right thing, Jillian thought.
I wouldn’t have to, if we weren’t going through this hell…
The judge wavered—too long, in Jillian’s opinion—before shaking her head and mandating an every-other-weekend edict instead.
Then, with a clack of a gavel, it was over:
Life as Jillian knew it. The life she thought they both wanted.
Now she knew better.
***
Afterward, Lutz explained to her that Scott’s request for joint custody was a typical ploy. “He figures the more he sees of them, the less he’ll have to pay out.”
Jillian shook her head in anger—at herself, mostly. “I guess it worked. The judge gave him every other weekend! Not only that, but she mandated he pay me only four thousand dollars a month—despite the fact he makes almost half a million dollars a year! That’s a pittance for him, but it’s only the equivalent of the mortgage note on the house. That means I’ll have to come up with the rest: for the utilities, food, clothing, and property taxes. Not to mention childcare, since it’s obvious I’ll have to start working again.”
Lutz shrugged. “It’s a temporary mandate. And don’t forget, she ordered him to turn over half of everything that was in your checking and savings accounts.”
“There wasn’t much there. Only a few hundred.”
“I’m guessing he was planning this for a while and stashed the brunt of his savings in a few accounts you know nothing about.”
As pragmatic as Scott was, she guessed Lutz was right.
Still, there
“Good. In the interim, scrub them vigorously.”
With a click, Jillian was off the hook.
11:06 a.m.
“What is she doing here?” Jillian hissed at her attorney, then nodded toward Scott’s definitely pregnant assistant, Victoria.
Lutz shrugged. “Moral support.”
“Moral what?” Jillian’s voice was so loud, he had to shush her. “You mean ‘immoral support’ , don’t you?”
“Call it what you will. He’s trying to make a point.”
“Yeah, I get it. The point is that he knocked her up, and he’d rather be with her.” Jillian shifted her head away from the twins, so they wouldn’t see her cry.
Amelia and Addison had spotted Scott, too, because they squealed, “Da da! Dadadadadada! ”
Instinctively, he waved at them, but seeing Jillian’s glower, he turned his head in shame.
Good, Jillian thought. Stay away from us. And keep her away, too…
As if reading her mind, Scott smirked, stood up, and walked over.
But when he tried to pick up Addison, Jillian slapped his hand away. “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice trembled, but he shrank away at the threat.
“All rise,” the bailiff shouted.
Jillian looked up to see the judge had witnessed it all.
Including the girls crying for their father.
She sank into her chair, praying.
1:08 p.m.
It’s over, Jillian thought. For good. Just like that.
She’d been with Scott since their second year in college. She’d dropped out in her senior year in order to support him when his family had abandoned him.
They’d been a team through thin and thin. Team Scott and Jillian.
No, it now hit her: it had only been Team Scott.
Throughout the proceedings, his eyes went from the judge, or to Victoria.
Never to Jillian.
At the best time possible—for him —he had glanced longingly at the children: that time being when his attorney had asked for joint custody.
The twins hadn’t made it easy for Jillian to make her case for sole custody. Despite holding them both in her lap, they had squirmed and cried. At one point, Amelia had shouted, “Dada!” More of a command than a question.
At Jillian’s behest, Lutz had pointed out, “Your honor, Mr. Frederick works long hours, and practically seven days a week. The point is not to leave the children with a nanny, but to ensure they have their mother.”
“What will happen when their mother goes to work?” Scott’s lawyer countered.
I wouldn’t have to, if Scott did the right thing, Jillian thought.
I wouldn’t have to, if we weren’t going through this hell…
The judge wavered—too long, in Jillian’s opinion—before shaking her head and mandating an every-other-weekend edict instead.
Then, with a clack of a gavel, it was over:
Life as Jillian knew it. The life she thought they both wanted.
Now she knew better.
***
Afterward, Lutz explained to her that Scott’s request for joint custody was a typical ploy. “He figures the more he sees of them, the less he’ll have to pay out.”
Jillian shook her head in anger—at herself, mostly. “I guess it worked. The judge gave him every other weekend! Not only that, but she mandated he pay me only four thousand dollars a month—despite the fact he makes almost half a million dollars a year! That’s a pittance for him, but it’s only the equivalent of the mortgage note on the house. That means I’ll have to come up with the rest: for the utilities, food, clothing, and property taxes. Not to mention childcare, since it’s obvious I’ll have to start working again.”
Lutz shrugged. “It’s a temporary mandate. And don’t forget, she ordered him to turn over half of everything that was in your checking and savings accounts.”
“There wasn’t much there. Only a few hundred.”
“I’m guessing he was planning this for a while and stashed the brunt of his savings in a few accounts you know nothing about.”
As pragmatic as Scott was, she guessed Lutz was right.
Still, there
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