The Calm Before the War
I don’t sleep. I just watch Lily breathe.
Every tiny sigh she makes is a nail in Chloe’s coffin.
At 6 AM, I hear Mark’s alarm. Then the coffee maker.
I brush my hair. Put on jeans. A little mascara. The armor of the sane.
I walk into the kitchen. Mark is there, scrolling his phone. He looks up, and for a second, I see guilt. Then it’s gone.
“Hey. You’re up early. You look… better,” he says. The word “better” hangs in the air like an insult.
“I feel better,” I say. My voice is flat. Neutral. “I think I’m turning a corner.”
Chloe walks in, wearing my robe. My favorite one. The silk one from our anniversary.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she chirps. “How are we feeling today?”
“We” are feeling like throwing this coffee in her face. But I don’t.
“Hungry,” I say. “Actually, could you run to The Pancake House? I’m craving their veggie omelet.”
She blinks. She wasn’t expecting a request. She was expecting a breakdown.
“Of course, sweetie. Whatever you need,” she says, her eyes flicking to Mark for approval.
He nods. “Go ahead, Chloe. I’ll watch Lily.”
She disappears to change. The second her car pulls out of the driveway, I turn to Mark.
“We need to talk. About my medical records.”
He freezes. His hand tightens around his mug. “What about them?”
“I want you to have full access. I’m signing a release today. So you can talk to my doctor directly.”
The relief on his face is sickening. He thinks he’s winning.
“That’s… that’s a great idea, babe. For the baby’s safety.”
“For the baby’s safety,” I repeat.
I know exactly what my doctor will say. Dr. Evans is a mandated reporter. But she’s also a mother of three. And she hates Chloe.
Last month, Chloe tried to “update” Dr. Evans on my condition. Dr. Evans kicked her out of the office.
“I don't discuss patients with their friends,” she’d said coldly.
Now I’m giving Mark permission. And Mark will bring Chloe. And they will walk right into a room where every word is confidential.
Except I’ve already texted Dr. Evans.
“My husband and his affair partner are trying to have me declared unfit. They have fabricated texts. I’m sending you the real ones. And the nanny cam footage.”
Her response: “Come alone tomorrow. I will examine you. And I will document their coercion.”
Chloe returns with the omelet. She sets it in front of me like a trophy.
“Eat up, Mama. You need your strength.”
I take a bite. It’s cold. “Thanks, Chloe. You’re such a good friend.”
She smiles. Mark smiles.
They have no idea that I’ve already called a family therapist.
No idea that I’ve booked a session for “co-parenting counseling” for next week.
And no idea that the therapist is a forensic psychologist who specializes in parental alienation.
I’m not fighting for my marriage. The marriage is dead.
I’m fighting for the legal record.
Every text they’ve sent. Every “concern” they’ve raised. It will all be on the record.
And then I’ll hand it to the best divorce lawyer in Austin, Texas.
Her name is Vera Cortez. She’s a shark. And she’s already sent me the retainer agreement.
I signed it at 4 AM.
Chloe sits down across from me. “So, what’s on the agenda today? A walk? Maybe some fresh air?”
“Actually,” I say, “I was thinking we could go shopping. For Lily. She’s growing so fast.”
Chloe’s eyes light up. She loves spending Mark’s money.
“Perfect! Let me grab my purse.”
As she walks away, Mark leans over. “See? This is good. You’re trying.”
I look him dead in the eye. “I’m trying, Mark.”
I’m trying to destroy you.
She thinks she's going shopping. But I'm taking her to meet a private investigator. Turn the page.
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