“Yes.”
“Joint bills?”
“Yes.”
“Property he took when he left?”
“Some furniture.”
“Medical expenses for Chloe?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated.
“He keeps saying most of the savings were his because he earned more.”
Barbara pushed the notebook toward me.
“Then paperwork can determine what’s his.”
So I wrote.
Every date I could remember.
Every amount.
Every bill.
Every message.
Every screenshot.
Every promise.
Every refusal.
Afterward, Barbara drove me to a family-law office.
I stopped outside.
“I can’t afford an attorney.”
“The consultation has already been handled.”
“Barbara…”
She raised a hand.
“I’m opening the door, Claire. What you do after that is your responsibility.”
And that was exactly what I did.
I stopped calling Eric for sympathy.
Stopped asking him to understand.
Stopped trying to convince him that Chloe deserved a father.
Instead, I collected records.
Bank statements.
Texts.
Receipts.
Medical bills.
My lawyer dealt with the rest.
Two weeks later, formal paperwork concerning Chloe and our finances reached Eric.
His first text arrived almost immediately.
You’ve completely lost your mind.
I forwarded it to my lawyer.
Then another.
My mother has poisoned you against me.
I forwarded that one too.
For once, Eric’s anger wasn’t something I needed to manage.
There were procedures now.
Dates.
Documents.
Obligations.
Facts.
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