Chapter 4 - Edith’s Perfect Lie
Three days after the divorce filing, Edith went live on Facebook.
I discovered it because a former neighbor sent me a message.
You need to see what she’s saying.
The video showed Edith sitting in my living room.
My living room.
She wore a pale blue blouse and held a tissue in one hand, looking fragile and heartbroken for the camera.
“My son has always been a loving husband,” she told her followers. “But some women become selfish when they make more money than their husbands. Blaire has abandoned us and is trying to throw an elderly woman into the street.”
The comments flooded in.
How terrible!
Poor Jeremy!
Some wives have no loyalty anymore.
Praying for you, Edith.
For a few seconds, I felt that familiar urge to defend myself immediately.
To write a comment.
To explain.
To prove.
Then I remembered something Mr. Lawrence had said.
“People who tell lies loudly often depend on you reacting emotionally.”
So I didn’t comment.
Instead, I saved the video.
Then I called my attorney.
“She’s making false claims publicly,” I said.
“She’s helping us,” he replied.
“How?”
“She’s proving that they are trying to shape public opinion before the facts come out.”
Two days later, the court granted a temporary financial restraining order.
Jeremy could not access the remaining joint funds.
He could not sell, transfer, or borrow against property connected to me.
And he could not remove any appliances, furniture, or renovation fixtures from the house.
That last part mattered.
Because when a locksmith and property inspector went to the house to document its condition, they discovered that Jeremy had already tried to sell the new refrigerator, washing machine, and air-conditioning unit online.
The same air-conditioning unit Edith called “wasteful.”
The inspector also found a stack of unpaid utility bills hidden in a kitchen drawer.
Bills Jeremy had promised to pay after I transferred him money each month.
Electricity.
Water.
Internet.
Home insurance.
Some were nearly three months overdue.
I stared at the papers in disbelief.
“He told me he paid these,” I said.
“He probably used your transfers for something else,” Mr. Lawrence replied.
The “something else” became clear the next day.
Jeremy had been gambling.
Not casually.
Not once in a while.
He had been placing online sports bets for almost a year.
Thousands of dollars at a time.
The fake company had not been for a renovation business.
It had been a cover for his losses.
He had drained our savings, lied about bills, and used my income to keep his life looking stable.
When I confronted him through his attorney, he denied everything.
Then, somehow, Edith found my new hotel.
She waited for me in the lobby.
I saw her sitting on a velvet chair near the entrance, her purse clutched tightly against her chest.
For a second, I considered walking past her.
But I was tired of running.
I sat across from her.
“What do you want, Edith?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’ve made your husband miserable.”
“Jeremy made his own choices.”
“You always thought you were better than him.”
“No,” I said. “I just wanted him to act like an adult.”
She leaned closer.
“You think you’re so clever because you have money.”
“This was never about money.”
“Of course it is. You’re taking the house because you want to punish us.”
“I’m taking back the house because it is legally mine.”
She looked away.
Then, unexpectedly, her face crumpled.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
For the first time, I saw something beneath her anger.
Fear.
But fear did not erase what she had done.
“You have a retirement account,” I said. “You have family in Tampa. You have options.”
“You would really leave an old woman alone?”
“I would never have left you alone,” I told her. “I would have cared for you. I did care for you. But you made me feel unwanted in my own home.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You were never a real daughter to me.”
I nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Then I stood.
“And that’s why I’m done trying to be one.”
As I walked away, she called after me.
“You’ll be sorry when Jeremy finds someone who knows how to be a wife.”
I turned back one final time.
May you like
“I hope he does,” I said. “Maybe then he’ll finally learn how to be a husband.”
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