My stepchildren looked me in the eye and said, “You’re not the one who raised us — stop pretending.” So I stopped showing up, stopped paying their bills, stopped answering their calls. When they suddenly asked where I went, their real mother already knew the answer.

I did not sleep that night.

The moment Vanessa left my hotel room, I began digging through the digital copies of my financial records.

By dawn, I had found exactly what she was talking about.

There was a brand new, massive line of credit taken out against the equity of the Portland house.

The house that I had paid the down payment on twelve years ago.

I needed a shark, and I needed one immediately.

At eight in the morning, I walked into the downtown office of Marcus Sterling.

Marcus was the most ruthless divorce attorney in Oregon, a man known for dismantling corrupt spouses.

I sat across from his massive mahogany desk and placed my laptop in front of him.

I showed him the GPS logs, the canceled accounts, and the fraudulent second mortgage.

Marcus adjusted his glasses and studied the screen with cold precision.

"He forged a notary stamp to bypass your physical presence at the bank," Marcus noted.

"This isn't just grounds for a divorce, Claire."

"This is a federal felony."

I felt a sharp pang of vindication mixed with profound disgust.

"I want everything that is legally mine, and I want him out of that house," I stated.

Marcus smiled, a predatory expression that made me glad he was on my side.

"We will freeze all of his business assets by noon," he promised.

My phone began to ring inside my purse.

The caller ID displayed Ethan's name.

I hesitated, but Marcus nodded for me to answer it and put it on speaker.

"Claire, you need to fix this right now," Ethan yelled through the phone.

"The police just impounded my car because you canceled the insurance policy!"

I kept my voice perfectly level.

"You told me I wasn't the one who raised you, Ethan."

"You should probably call your real mother for bail money."

I ended the call before he could scream another insult.

Marcus leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Let's go to the bank and secure your remaining assets," Marcus said.

We walked out of his office and took the elevator down to the lobby.

But as the doors slid open, two uniformed police officers were waiting for us.

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My father bet twenty dollars that I would walk through his front door al...

My Husband Slapped Me Out of His House for His Mistress, Then the Most F...

One of them held up a shiny pair of handcuffs.

"Claire Whitmore, you are under arrest for the grand theft of corporate funds."

Chapter 3 - The Lawyer