Chapter 7: The Morning Diana Came Back
She arrived at eight the next morning.
I heard her key in the lock.
Maya was still asleep.
I was already at the kitchen table with coffee and the envelope and a notepad where I had written down everything Renata had told me, in order, with dates.
Diana came into the kitchen and stopped when she saw me sitting there.
"You stayed," she said.
"It's my house."
She set her bag down and stood near the counter.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
Her hair was pulled back, and she was wearing the same jacket from yesterday.
"We need to talk about how we handle this," she said.
"Sit down, Diana."
She sat.
I slid the notepad across the table.
She looked at it.
I watched her read the first three lines.
Her expression didn't change, but her hand moved to the edge of the table.
"You spoke to Renata," she said.
"She called me."
"She had no right—"
"She had every right.
You were going to take my daughter."
Diana looked up.
"I was going to get custody of a child who needs stability.
You travel constantly.
You're gone three weeks out of every month.
What kind of home is that?"
"The kind where she has her grandmother's bear and someone who loves her."
"Love isn't a custody arrangement, William."
"Neither is fraud." I tapped the notepad.
"Asset concealment.
Fabricated documentation.
A retainer paid from our joint account to a family law attorney without my knowledge.
You want to talk about what's best for Maya?
Let's talk about what a judge will say about this."
Diana's jaw tightened.
"You don't have proof of fabrication."
"I have the storage unit.
I have the filing cabinets.
I have a text from Renata and I have her willingness to testify."
"Renata is not a reliable witness.
She has a history of—"
"Diana." I kept my voice flat.
"Stop."
She stopped.
"I don't want to do this in front of Maya.
I don't want to do this in a courtroom if I don't have to.
But I need you to understand something very clearly." I looked at her across the table.
"I know everything.
And what I don't know yet, I will find out.
So whatever you were planning to say to me this morning — whatever version of this you rehearsed in the car on the way here — I need you to set it aside and tell me the truth."
The refrigerator hummed.
A bird moved past the window.
Diana looked at the notepad for a long time.
"I was scared," she said finally.
"I know that's not an excuse.
But I was scared of being left with nothing.
You have the house.
You have the income.
You have Maya.
If we divorced and I had nothing to show, I would walk away with almost nothing."
"So you built a case against me."
"I built protection."
"You built a lie."
She didn't argue that.
"The attorney," I said.
"Have you spoken to her since you paid the retainer?"
"Once.
Yesterday."
"Call her this morning and tell her you're pausing the consultation."
Diana looked up.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because the alternative is that I walk into that storage unit with my own attorney today and we spend the next two years in court, and Maya watches every minute of it." I stood up.
"Or you pause it.
We talk.
We figure out what an honest separation looks like, if that's what you want.
But it starts with the truth.
All of it."
Diana sat very still.
From upstairs, I heard Maya's feet hit the floor.
The small thud of a child getting out of bed.
Diana heard it too.
She looked toward the ceiling, then back at me.
"All right," she said.
"All of it."
"Start with the filing cabinets," I said.
"What's in the ones I haven't opened?"
She reached into her bag and set a small ring of keys on the table between us.
May you like
"Everything," she said.
"Three years of everything."
