I refused.
The judge reviewed everything.
The recordings.
The false medical reports.
The forged signatures.
The financial documents.
The messages explaining Daniel’s plan to convince me that any delay in selling the house would make me responsible for his death.
Then she looked directly at him.
“You exploited your wife’s grief for her father and fabricated a terminal illness to steal her inheritance. Your request for spousal support is denied.”
Daniel’s expression crumbled.
For weeks, he had tried to portray himself as a victim of an unforgiving wife.
In that moment, the truth was spoken plainly in a courtroom where he could no longer control the story.
After the hearing, I walked into the courthouse hallway.
Elaine hurried after me.
“Please,” she cried. “I’m an old woman. Prison will kill me.”
I stopped and turned toward her.
