Chapter 33
Julia
The thing about Richard’s attack on my finances is that it’s not surprising. I knew it would happen. It has been spelled out in the prenup forever, although in more polite legal language. Everything is his. I should have known from the beginning that it would always end this way.
All those years of walking on eggshells, trying to keep him happy, convincing myself that his coldness was just his personality and he loved me underneath the ice?
That was me making excuses. This campaign he’s waging against me is who he really is.
The cool indifference was just the tip of an iceberg.
Underneath, there was always this: a man who would rather destroy me than let me go, even though he doesn’t really want me, anyway.
Wrapped in a blanket against the December chill, I sit on Heidi and Nicole’s front porch, watching the lights flick on in the house across the cul-de-sac. My house…or what was my house for the last twenty years. It’s just Richard’s house, now. And strangely, he still hasn’t gone back to Pittsburgh.
That’s the part that unsettles me the most. Richard lives for his work. His business trips aren’t optional. They’re the backbone of his entire operation. The fact that he’s chosen to stay here, lurking in that house like a spider in a web, means he’s not done with me yet.
Heidi slides open the glass door and hands me a steaming mug of chamomile tea. “You look like you need it.”
“Thanks.” I wrap my hands around the warmth, remembering the sweet, milky version Ian made for me last week on that horrible night. I feel like a totally different person, and a lot of that is due to Ian being there for me through this bizarre nightmare of a separation. “He’s still there.”
She follows my gaze across the street. “I noticed. Nicole’s been checking the cameras every hour.”
I snort. “That seems excessive.”
“She’s worried about you.” She settles into the chair beside me. “So am I. How are you holding up? And don’t say ‘fine.’ I can smell bullshit from a mile away. It’s a middle school teacher superpower.”
I take a sip of tea to buy myself time. How am I holding up?
My soon-to-be-ex husband is trying to systematically dismantle my life.
I can’t talk to my own daughters without risking their education.
I’m living out of a suitcase in my best friend’s TV room.
And I’m a few weeks away from giving birth to triplets.
“I’m… weirdly okay?” I admit. “I feel like I should be more upset.”
“Maybe you’re still in shock.”
“Maybe.” A silhouette moves behind Richard’s curtains, just a flicker of a shadow. “Or maybe I’m just relieved. Like I’ve been holding my breath for twenty years, and I finally get to exhale.”
Heidi reaches over and squeezes my hand. “That’s not weird at all.”
We sit in comfortable silence until the cold drives us inside. Nicole has dinner ready, a yummy Indonesian curry that delights my pregnancy-enhanced sense of smell. We eat and talk about nothing important, and for a little while, I pretend my life isn’t imploding.
But later, alone in the TV room with the pull-out sofa and my borrowed phone, a little bit of reality settles back over me like a heavy blanket.
I can’t keep avoiding my mom.
It’s morning in Korea, which means she’ll be awake and probably elbow-deep in some household project. I dial her number from my contacts, grateful that Ian was able to add me to his plan.
She answers on the third ring with a polite yeo-bo-se-yo, like I’m calling from the bank.
“Eomma, it’s me.”
“Ji-Woo!” I can hear the concern sharpen her voice. “Why are you calling from a different number? What happened?”
I take a deep breath and tell her everything. The confrontation with Richard. The canceled credit cards. The repossessed car. Ian’s help with everything. I keep my voice steady, clinical even, like I’m reporting facts instead of describing the demolition of my marriage.
When I finish, there’s a long silence.
“Gaesaekki,” she spits, which loosely translates to “son of a bitch.” It’s one of the few times I’ve heard her curse.
“Eomma.”
“Don’t ‘Eomma’ me. I knew he was bad, but this?” She makes a sound of disgust. “And he’s threatening the girls’ tuition? Hurting his own children?”
“He wants to hurt me. They’re just collateral damage.” Saying it out loud makes my chest ache. “I can’t risk contacting them directly, not until I know he won’t follow through on his threat. But I need them to know what’s happening. Can you tell them for me?”
“Of course. What should I say?”
I’ve been rehearsing this in my head for days, but it still hurts to say it out loud.
“Tell them that their father and I are getting divorced. That it’s not their fault, and I love them more than anything.
Tell them I’m sorry I couldn’t make it work, but I need them to focus on school right now.
Tell them...” My voice cracks. “Tell them I’ll explain everything when I can, and I hope they’ll understand. ”
“They will.” My mother’s voice is firm. “They’re smart girls.”
“They love him a lot.”
“They know their father,” she says grimly. “Just like you knew yours.”
I want to believe her. I really do. But I’ve seen how persuasive Richard can be, how easily he twists situations to make himself the victim.
What if he’s already turned them against me?
What if they think I abandoned the family because I got knocked up by a random guy I met at the bookstore?
I can’t let him be the storyteller of our relationship, or they’re going to hate me.
“Eomma, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“When you divorced Appa...” I hesitate treading on old wounds. We’ve never really talked about it. “How did you handle it? The legal stuff, I mean.”
The pause on her end tells me she understands what I’m really asking.
My parents’ divorce was brutal. My father had repeated affairs and gambled away their savings, and they had terrible fights about it.
They must have split up and gotten back together a dozen times before they finally divorced for good.
It’s part of why I fought so hard to make my marriage work.
I didn’t want to repeat those patterns. I didn’t want to put my children through what I went through.
Look how well that turned out.
“I made a mistake,” she finally says. “I tried to be nice. I thought if I was reasonable, he would be reasonable too. I thought we could work on things together like adults, for your sake.” She laughs bitterly.
“All it did was give him time to spend all our money. By the time I realized what was happening, I had nothing.”
“So what should I do?”
“Stop being nice.” Her voice hardens. “If Richard was capable of being amicable, you wouldn’t be getting divorced. He showed you who he is, Julia. Believe him. Treat him like the enemy he’s chosen to be.”
“You’re saying I should fight dirty?”
“I’m saying you should hire the best divorce lawyer you can find. Someone who will fight for you the way Richard is fighting against you. A shark. Don’t worry about the cost. Whatever it is, it will be worth it.”
I think about the manila envelope Ian gave me, the one with all of Ben’s research on Richard’s shadier business dealings and affairs. I haven’t done anything with it yet. It felt too much like blackmail, using information gathered without consent.
But my mother is right. Richard isn’t playing by the rules. Why should I?
“I’ll find someone good,” I promise.
“Find someone mean,” she corrects. “Don’t let him win, Ji-Woo. Not because of pride, but because you and the girls deserve better. You always have.”
“I love you, Eomma.”
“I love you, too.”
After we hang up, I stare at the phone for a long time. Then I text Ian.
“Can you ask Ben if he knows any good divorce lawyers? Aggressive ones.”
His response comes almost immediately. “I’ll have names for you tomorrow.”
Of course, he’ll deliver. That’s Ian. Always one step ahead, always trying to take care of me whether I ask him to or not.
The next morning, Ben calls me directly.
“I found you a lawyer,” he says when I answer the phone. “Name’s Mako Brinely. He’s a shark shifter, practices family law with a specialty in high-profile divorces. He’s brutal in the courtroom, and he doesn’t lose.”
“A literal shark?”
“Great white, actually. He has a ninety-three percent success rate, and the seven percent he lost were cases that were unwinnable to begin with. I already sent him the file on Richard. He’s very interested.”
I swallow hard. “How much does he cost?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Ben, I can’t let you pay for my lawyer.”
“You’re not letting me do anything. Ian’s covering the retainer. He said to tell you it’s an investment in his children’s future, and if you argue, he’s going to show up at your workplace and sing ‘Hungry Like the Wolf’ at the top of his lungs.”
I can’t help but laugh. “He wouldn’t.”
“Hell yes, he would. Brinely wants to meet with you on Monday at ten. Can you be there?”
“I’ll make it work.”
After I hang up, I text Ian. “A literal shark lawyer?”
“You wanted aggressive, so we got you aggressive.”
“I love you.” I type it but then think better of it, staring at the words on the screen. My thumb hovers over the send button. Ian deserves to hear it from me in person first. I delete it and send a heart instead, and he sends one back.
Work that afternoon is strange. I’m distracted, replaying my conversation with my mom, mentally preparing for my meeting with Mako Brinely, trying not to think about the three little words I almost sent Ian and what they mean.
That’s probably why I don’t notice Ashleigh approaching until she’s right next to me.
“Hey,” she says, startling me. I squeak and drop a book on the floor. As I scramble to pick it up and check for dented corners, she asks, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
I jerk a nod and brace myself for another lecture as she leads me to the break room and closes the door.
“I overheard you on the phone yesterday, about your husband,” she says, and I go rigid.
Great, now I’m going to get fired for using the store phone for personal business.
But what else was I supposed to do when I had no ride, no money, and no phone?
She must see the panic on my face because she holds up her hands.
“You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to apologize. ”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Ashleigh, apologizing? For what?
“Look, I know I’ve been hard on you.” She fidgets with the end of her ponytail, looking uncomfortable.
“I think I misjudged you as, I don’t know…
a rich lady playing around with a part-time job, I guess.
And then when you got pregnant, I thought you’d be gone in a few months and never come back.
I get frustrated when I invest time in people who aren’t as serious about this business as I am, so I half-assed your training.
And maybe I was a little bit jealous that you have an English degree and got the story-time position with no experience.
You’re actually really good with the kids, and our kid lit sales have gone up a ton since you got hired. ”
“Ashleigh, I don’t know what to say.”
“Let me finish.” She takes a breath. “I was in a bad relationship, too, in the past. Not the same as yours, but bad enough. And I remember what it was like, trying to function at work when my whole life was falling apart. So I want you to know that I get what you are going through, at least a little bit. And if you need to take breaks or leave early or whatever, now or after the babies come, just tell me. I’ll cover for you. ”
I’m so shocked that tears spring to my eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just take care of yourself.” She gives me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “And maybe consider therapy. It helped me a lot.”
She leaves before I can respond, and I stand there in the back room, crying into a box of returns. Maybe I’ve misjudged her, too.
Ian picks me up after my shift, as he has every day since my car got repo’ed. He’s leaning against his Jeep when I come out, golden eyes warm in the streetlight glow.
“How was work?”
“Weird.” I climb into the passenger seat. “Ashleigh was nice to me. Kind of. She did tell me to get therapy.”
“I’m not surprised you finally won her over.” He starts the engine. “Hungry? I was thinking we could grab dinner at that bulgogi place.”
“Actually...” I hesitate, heart pounding. I’ve been thinking about this all day. All week, really. “Can we go to the cabin instead?”
He glances at me, one ear cocked. “You want me to make dinner?”
“And breakfast tomorrow.” I put my hand on his arm, and he stills. Understanding dawns in his eyes. Then heat. Then something tender that makes my breath catch.
“You moving in with me, pretty girl?” he asks softly.
I think about everything that’s happened. Richard’s cruelty. My mother’s advice. Ashleigh’s unexpected kindness. The three words I almost I sent and then didn’t. I’m tired of being careful. It’s time to be brave.
“Sure am,” I tell him. “Take me home.”
His tail starts wagging before he can stop it, thumping against the driver’s seat in a rhythm that matches my racing heart.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and pulls out of the parking lot toward the mountains.