Page 10 of October
I felt my chest tighten, but I didn't let the tears fall. Not here. Not now. I wasn't here to cry—I was here to act.
"Fourth... we don't say the word divorce. Not yet. Not until you have what you need in place. Especially financially. Do you have any assets in your name?"
"Just the car," I whispered.
He nodded slowly, like he'd already known. "Then that's our first move. Start with what's in your name. If you can get him to sign something else over, even better."
He leaned forward, voice low and calm, like he was talking someone off a ledge. "But this is a long game. Eventually, you'll want something solid. A lease. A deed. Proof that something in this life belongs to you."
His eyes darkened. "If he's hiding money, we'll find it. If he's cheating—don't confront him. Don't scream. We don't make noise."
He paused, his voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper.
"We gather. Quietly. Patiently. And when the time is right... we take everything."
There was a pause, and then I breathed out. Really breathed. For the first time in what felt like days.
"You don't have to do everything today," Jordan said. "But you've already done the hardest part. You showed up and you told someone."
I looked down at the paper he'd handed me. His handwriting was clean, direct. Just a list—but somehow it felt like armor.
"I can do this," I said softly, half to myself, half to the version of me I was trying to find again.
Jordan smiled like he already knew. "You already are," and for once, I believed it.
Chapter Five: Rising Fury
When I picked up my children, I didn't cry. Not when Alice ran into my arms. Not when Lola squealed and tugged at my shirt. Not even when Jimmy, quiet and unreadable, got in the car without a word. I just buckled everyone in, started the engine,and drove us home. The driveway already had Thomas's car in it. That hadn't happened in... God, how long? Months? Maybe longer.
Inside, he was setting the table with takeout containers lined up neatly—Italian. Jimmy's favorite. He looked up when we walked in, hands wiping awkwardly on a dish towel like he was trying to look helpful.
"There you are," he said. "Thought I'd surprise you with dinner."
The smile he wore was familiar and distant—like the kind you give strangers in a waiting room. Alice squealed and ran to him. Lola kicked her legs in my arms, reaching. I handed her over, and Thomas looked between us all like a man trying to recognize his own reflection.
We ate in awkward silence. Thomas served the plates, filled the water glasses, offered more bread. He tried conversation. A joke. Something about a coworker and an elevator. No one laughed. Jimmy didn't even glance up from his plate. I didn't look at Thomas. After dinner, I started clearing the table, but he gently took Alice from her seat.
"I've got her. I'll get her to bed."
I nodded.
Once Lola was changed and down, I stood outside Jimmy's door for a long time. My hand hovered above the wood before I finally knocked.
"Jimmy?" My voice felt like it echoed.
A pause. Then: "Yeah."
I opened the door slowly. He was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
"Can I come in?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
I sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping my hands folded in my lap.
"I just wanted to say..." My voice cracked and I took a breath. "I know things haven't been easy. For a while now and I haven't been the best example."
He didn't look at me, but his brow twitched.
