“How long have you known?”
“Six weeks. Spent five planning.”
“And you just… let me?”
“I gave you rope. You handled the rest.”
She tried again. “What about Cody? You’re going to traumatize him?”
“Already handled. Custody’s coming down 70/30. You’ll get supervised at first.”
“Supervised?! I’m his mother!”
“A mother who brought strangers home around my kids. Judges tend not to love that.”
Her outrage collapsed into fear. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“Not my problem. Brett’s? David’s? Your mom’s? Take your pick.”
“I can’t pay for a place!”
“Then get full-time work. Boutique shifts won’t do it.”
“You set all this up while deployed?”
“Had plenty of time.”
She made one last attempt. “We could try counseling… maybe fix this for the kids.”
“The kids need to see that choices matter. That’s the real fix.”
“You’re throwing away eight years!”
“No. You did. Every time you brought someone else into our bed.”
Final Update: The Aftermath
The divorce wrapped up four months ago.
Kendra went in swinging. Tried everything. Claimed I “abandoned” the family (judge literally laughed). Said the cameras were abusive (the footage said otherwise). Tried to say PTSD made me unfit (psych eval cleared me completely).
