Chapter 4
"We're going to figure it out," I said—my new favorite phrase that meant absolutely nothing.
"Is Daddy going to come back?"
"I don't know, sweetheart."
He nodded like a tiny adult accepting bad news. Then he said something that stopped me cold:
"Raven isn't nice to Daddy."
"What do you mean?"
"When they came to get Skylar's stuff yesterday, I watched from Mrs. Dolly's window. Raven was yelling at him about something. And she kept looking at other men."
Other men? My eight-year-old was noticing things I'd completely missed.
I decided to take Aspen to the playground—partly because he needed fresh air, partly because I needed to get out of Dolly's space for a while. The poor woman had been nothing but kind, but I could feel the strain of having houseguests who might never leave.
As we walked past our old trailer, now with Colton's truck and Raven's red Camaro in the driveway, Aspen suddenly grabbed my hand.
"Mommy, look."
Raven was outside, pacing around while talking on her phone. Even from a distance, I could tell she was upset—gesturing wildly, her voice sharp and angry.
"I can't hear what she's saying," Aspen whispered, "but she keeps saying a name. Kevin. Kevin something."
Kevin? Who's Kevin? And why was my eight-year-old son picking up on details that I was missing?
"Let's keep walking, baby."
But as we passed closer, I caught fragments:
"...told you I'd have the money soon..."
"...he doesn't suspect anything..."
My blood ran cold. He doesn't suspect what?
At the playground, while Aspen climbed on the monkey bars, I called legal aid.
"Hi, I need some information about lottery winnings and marital property," I told the receptionist.
"I can connect you with someone, but there's a two-week wait for consultations."
Two weeks. Two weeks while Colton and Raven spent what should be our money.
"Is there any general information you can give me now?"
"Well, if the ticket was purchased with marital funds, the winnings could be considered community property. But you'd need documentation."
Documentation. Proof that the ticket was bought with our shared money from our joint account.
I had to pick up my final paycheck from Walmart, and on the way back, Aspen really needed to use the bathroom. The only place nearby was the nail salon where Raven worked.
"Mommy, I really have to go," Aspen said, doing that little kid dance.
"Okay, baby. But we're just using the bathroom and leaving."
Inside, the salon was all pink and glittery, reeking of nail polish remover. A few women were getting manicures, gossiping in low voices.
"Excuse me," I asked the receptionist, "can my son use your restroom?"
She looked uncomfortable. "Um... sure. It's in the back."
While Aspen was in the bathroom, I heard familiar laughter. Raven was at a station working on a client's nails, but her purse was sitting open on the counter next to her.
And sticking out of it was a photograph. A man—dark hair, muscular, definitely not Colton.
"Mommy, I'm done!" Aspen announced loudly, coming out of the bathroom.
Raven looked up, saw us, and her face went white.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, quickly shoving the photo deeper into her purse.
Busted. She was hiding something, and now she knew I'd seen it.
"Just using the restroom," I said calmly. "Nice photo. Friend of yours?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Aspen, bless him, chose that moment to be a curious eight-year-old:
"Is that your boyfriend in the picture? He looks different from my daddy."
The client Raven was working on looked up with interest. The other women in the salon had gone quiet, suddenly very interested in our conversation.
"That's... that's my brother," Raven stammered.
"Oh," Aspen said, tilting his head. "He doesn't look like you. Is he adopted?"
My kid is accidentally brilliant.
Raven's face was getting redder by the second. "Could you please leave? You're disrupting my work."
"Of course." I took Aspen's hand. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."
As we left, I heard the whispers starting behind us.
"She definitely has another man," I told Dolly while Aspen played in the backyard.
"I'm not surprised. Girls like that always have a backup plan."
"But what can I do with that information? I can't prove anything."
"Maybe you don't have to prove it. Maybe you just need to plant seeds of doubt."
My phone rang. Skylar.
"Hi, Mom."
"Sky! Baby, how are you?"
"I'm... fine. Listen, I called because Dad wants to meet with you tomorrow. About the divorce papers."
Here we go. The official end of everything.
"Where?"
"Denny's on Main Street. Noon. He says to bring a lawyer if you want, but he's trying to keep this simple."
Simple. Right. Simple for him, devastating for me.
"Sky, are you okay? You sound..."
"I have to go, Mom. I'll... I'll see you around."
She hung up before I could say I love you.
That night, I was lying on the couch staring at the ceiling again when I heard whispers from the kitchen.
"Dolly?" I called softly.
"Just me, sweetie. Can't sleep?"
I found her at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a laptop.
"What are you doing up?"
"Research," she said. "I've been looking up information about lottery tickets and divorce law in Texas."
"And?"
"And if that ticket was bought with money from your joint account, you have a claim. But here's the interesting part—if Raven is married to someone else, or if she's involved in any kind of fraud, that could complicate things for Colton."
Married to someone else? Fraud? My brain started spinning.
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, Brandi. She shows up right when he wins the lottery? Has photos of other men? Gets nervous when questioned? Girl's running a con."
"But how do we prove it?"
"We don't. We just need to make Colton start asking questions."
I thought about tomorrow's meeting. About Colton sitting across from me, probably with Raven beside him, ready to officially end our marriage.
"I need to call Skylar."
"Brandi, it's almost midnight—"
"She's fifteen. She's probably still awake."
I dialed her number.
"Mom? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just... I wanted to hear your voice."
Silence.
"Sky, are you happy? Really happy?"
"I... why are you asking?"
"Because you're my daughter. And even though you're angry with me, even though you chose to live with your father, I still love you more than anything in the world."
I heard her sniffle.
"Mom..."
"And if there's ever anything—anything at all—that doesn't feel right, you can always come home to me. No questions asked. No 'I told you so.' Just... home."
"I know," she whispered.
"Good. Now get some sleep."
"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful tomorrow. With Dad. He's... different now."
Different how? But before I could ask, she was gone.