Chapter 1 #2
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be married to Stacey, or any of the others who’d come before her, once he decided he didn’t want to be there anymore.
No way would he ever let that happen. Being able to leave—any time he wanted, with his head held high and his conscience clear—was key to his survival in the screwed-up world in which he lived and worked.
Every day, he witnessed what people who were once madly in love did to try to destroy each other—and the children they swore they loved more than life itself.
He’d found that most didn’t love their kids nearly as much as they hated their ex.
Julian wanted nothing to do with that for himself, and neither did his siblings. While they enjoyed bickering with one another as if it were a blood sport, that was the one thing they all agreed on.
After seeing his one serious ex-girlfriend, Aimee Godfrey, recently at her parents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration, Julian had been deeply unsettled to realize the feelings he’d once had for her were still there.
They’d resurfaced from the deepest, darkest corners of his soul to remind him of how helpless love could make you, especially when it didn’t work out.
Aimee was long married to a guy named Trent Morgan, who worked in finance and was some sort of whiz kid when it came to investing, or so he’d heard. They had three beautiful kids—a son and two daughters—and a happy life that seemed to suit her.
She’d gotten lucky.
Julian made a lucrative living off the fact that most people were unhappy and not afraid to go all out to get free of the person they’d supposedly loved with all their heart once upon a time.
Being alone was better than taking a gamble that more than half the time ended in expensive failure. The Remington siblings had seen what that kind of failure looked like up close and personal, and they were all set, thank you very much.
Stacey would be okay. She’d find a nice guy who wanted a white picket fence in the burbs and a posse of kids.
That man was not, and would never be, Julian Remington.
An hour later, Julian was in Los Angeles County Superior Court, listening to Bryan McDavid and his attorney extol Bryan’s many virtues as an involved, caring, safety-conscious parent who should share in joint custody with his soon-to-be ex-wife and Julian’s client, Rachel McDavid.
Because he had all the evidence he needed to bury Bryan, Julian let him and his windbag attorney, Thomas Driscoll, have the floor for the first thirty minutes of the hearing.
Rachel wanted sole custody due to Bryan’s angry outbursts that regularly frightened her and her children, among other concerns that Julian would bring to light when it was his turn to present their side of the argument.
Bryan had been unwilling to engage in mediation and had demanded a trial when the matter could’ve been quietly settled out of court for much less than the trial would cost them, both financially and personally.
Nothing about this proceeding would be quiet, if Julian had his way.
Driscoll went on and on about the character references he’d obtained for Bryan, who was by all accounts an upstanding member of the community, a dedicated father to his two young sons and a well-respected auditor, expected to make partner at his CPA firm within the year.
“Mr. Remington and his client would have you believe that Mr. McDavid is one step above a deadbeat, when there’s ample evidence to the contrary. He should have shared custody of his sons and a reasonable visitation schedule. Thank you, Your Honor.”
Judge Michael Fallows glanced at Julian to give him the floor.
He’d been looking forward to this moment as he stood to hand one set of copies to Driscoll and another set to the judge. “Your Honor, some new information has come to light in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Objection,” Driscoll said. “We’ve heard nothing about any new information.”
“We only found out about it yesterday,” Julian said. “And it’s highly relevant to the matter before the Court.”
“I’ll allow it,” the judge said.
Turning to face Bryan McDavid, he said, “Do you recognize these posts?”
On each page was a post made to an X profile called Ramblr26, accusing Rachel of being a neglectful mother and cheating wife.
“‘If you encounter Rachel McDavid,’” Julian read from his copy as he watched Bryan begin to shift in his seat the way people did when they knew what was coming, “‘you should be aware that she presents herself to be one thing, when she’s someone else entirely. She opens her legs to anyone who asks and doesn’t give a shit where her kids are when she’s doing it. ’”
Fallows stared at Bryan, his expression stern.
Excellent.
“Th- that’s not me.” Bryan directed a hard, hateful stare at Rachel, who kept her gaze focused straight ahead, the way Julian had told her to.
“I have no idea who that is. Could be anyone with the way she gets around.” He had close-cropped blond hair, cold blue eyes, a goatee and a chip on his shoulder so big, it took up all the extra space in the courtroom.
“Is this your address?” Julian asked as he dropped another sheet of paper on the table in front of Bryan.
Bryan leaned in for a closer look. “You know it is. It’s all over the divorce paperwork.”
Julian approached the bench to deliver additional documents. “Your Honor, we’ve tied the IP address for Ramblr26’s account to Mr. McDavid’s home.”
With a glance toward Bryan and his attorney, the judge reached for the documents while Julian stepped back to watch the show. The only thing that would’ve made this better was popcorn.
While the judge reviewed the documents and the vicious, foul things Ramblr26 had written about the mother of his children, Driscoll leaned in to confer with Bryan in frantic-sounding whispers.
Julian and Rachel had learned about the posts from a mom at the boys’ school.
Rachel had never met the woman, but she’d called to tell her what was being said about her online.
When she’d relayed the information to Julian, she’d been full of outrage and disbelief that the man she’d once loved, to whom she’d given two beautiful sons, would say such vile things about her publicly when none of it was true.
She’d never once cheated on him, but he sure as hell couldn’t say the same.
Julian had proof of that, too, thanks to his investigator brother Carson, who’d put together a full report on Bryan’s extracurricular activities over the past four years.
He’d planned to hold that back in case he needed it, but he didn’t care for the way Bryan was glaring at Rachel, clearly trying to intimidate her into backing down.
Not on his watch.
“Your Honor, I’d also like to enter into evidence this investigative report that was recently completed detailing Mr. McDavid’s extramarital affairs over the past four years.
We believe you’ll find it helpful in determining a fair settlement as well as custody of the McDavids’ young sons.
In our opinion, the boys would be detrimentally affected by spending time with a man who speaks so disparagingly about their mother online and conducts extramarital affairs so frequently, we wonder how he’d find the time to care for his kids. ”
Bryan surged to his feet so quickly, his chair went crashing into the half wall behind him. “You fucking bitch! You had me followed?”
“Mr. Driscoll, please remind your client that that language and behavior are not acceptable to this Court, and unless he’d like me to end this right now without any further input from your side, he’ll sit down and be quiet.”
Driscoll moved quickly to retrieve the chair and plopped Bryan’s ass back in it before he made things worse.
After returning to his seat at the table, Julian reached for Rachel’s cold and trembling hand.
He’d told her ahead of time what he planned to do and warned her to be ready for Bryan to get ugly.
But how could anyone prepare to have the person they’d once loved enough to marry and have children with talk to them that way?
Bryan was breathing hard and nearly foaming at the mouth with rage.
Good, Julian thought as he stared him down, let the judge see how he behaves when he’s angry. Maybe he’ll grant our request for full custody with a domestic violence restraining order that’ll keep him the hell away from her and their kids.
After about ten tense minutes, the judge put down the documents and looked at Bryan.
“This new information, in addition to what I’ve already read in the file, leaves me with no choice in this matter.
The horrible, hateful things you’ve said online about Mrs. McDavid, even if every word were true, are so revolting that I agree with Mr. Remington that joint custody is not in your sons’ best interest. Sole custody is hereby awarded to Mrs. McDavid, and I’m approving the request for a domestic violence restraining order that’ll prevent you from coming within one thousand feet of your wife and sons. ”
Bryan let out a cry of anguish. “I never laid a hand on them!” He glanced frantically at his attorney. “How is this domestic violence?”
“Abuse doesn’t have to be physical in nature to count as domestic violence, Mr. McDavid,” the judge added. “Your behavior has disturbed the peace of your soon-to-be ex-wife and your sons, which is a qualifying factor.”
“But I never hit her! She’s lying if she says I did!”
Driscoll told him to be quiet.
“I hereby grant Mrs. McDavid sole custody of the minor children as well as child support in the amount of three thousand dollars per month, due on the first day of each month, and spousal support in the amount of one thousand dollars, due concurrently. The child support, in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars per child, will continue until the children reach the age of eighteen. The spousal support will end only if Mrs. McDavid remarries. The decree will be final sixty days from today, with the initial payment for child support due on the first of next month. Spousal support will begin thirty days after the divorce is final. If you violate the restraining order, you’ll be arrested and charged. Am I clear on that?”
Bryan was now softly sobbing as tears ran down his face. “You’re really going to take my kids from me after everything she’s done to me?”
“She hasn’t done anything to you, Mr. McDavid,” Julian said, “other than be a faithful, loving wife and mother. You’re the one who filed for divorce, refused to engage in mediation and then took to social media to air out your made-up grievances against the mother of your children.
If you’re looking for someone to blame, you might want to consult a mirror. ”
“Fuck you, you slick piece of shit.”
“This matter is concluded,” the judge said. “Mr. McDavid, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from your wife and children.”
Bryan glared at Rachel. “This isn’t over. Count on that, bitch.”
“Mr. Driscoll, please inform your client that he can be arrested for threatening Mrs. McDavid, and let him know that this is, in fact, over. You can petition the Court in twenty-four months to possibly modify the restraining order and revisit visitation with your children. I suggest you use that time wisely and invest in anger management classes if you hope to convince the Court to allow you to see your sons.”
“Twenty-four months?” Bryan asked on a scream. “I can’t see them for two years?”
“Based on the things you posted about the mother of your children, I wouldn’t let you care for my dog,” Julian said. “You’re lucky it’s only two years.”
“Thank you for your input, Mr. Remington,” the judge said sarcastically. “This matter is adjourned.” The judge got up to leave the room.
“I don’t get to say anything? You’re just taking my kids away for two fucking years, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”
Driscoll took hold of Bryan’s arm to lead him from the courtroom. Julian could hear him screaming in the hallway outside the room.
Julian turned to Rachel. “What can I do for you?”
She shook her head and reached for another tissue from the box on the table. “I don’t know what to say. I got what I wanted, but at what price? I’ll have to keep one eye over my shoulder and worry every second my kids aren’t with me.”
“As much as I hate to say this, it might be a good idea to relocate somewhere new. We can help you legally change your name and the kids’ names.”
She nodded, but exhaustion clung to her like a wet blanket after years of dealing with Bryan and his rage while trying to keep herself and her young sons safe.
Julian offered her a hand to help her up. “Let’s go back to my office and figure out your next steps.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me,” she said, looking devastated despite her “victory.”
“Of course. That’s my job.”
“You do it very well.”
“We try.”
As he escorted her from the courtroom, Julian was on full alert for trouble. He had a bad feeling that they hadn’t seen the last of Bryan McDavid.