CHAP 16 — PLAN B
The spreadsheet became the center of both cases.
Criminal prosecutors used it to establish preparation.
Family court used it more cautiously.
But even cautious people could read.
Derek’s strategy had depended on ordinary postpartum exhaustion being turned into evidence.
That frightened the custody evaluator.
Not because Derek had physically threatened Emily.
Because he had planned to exploit the mother-child period for litigation advantage.
The evaluator amended her recommendation.
Primary residential custody with me.
Structured parenting time with Derek.
Mandatory co-parenting counseling.
No unilateral changes.
No disparagement.
No use of Elaine as childcare pending resolution of her case.
Derek hated every word.
He fired Caroline Bishop.
His third lawyer lasted nine days.
Then Derek decided to represent himself temporarily.
That was when things deteriorated.
Without a lawyer filtering him, his messages became longer.
You’ve always needed people to tell you what to think. First Rachel, now Nina, now therapists.
I did not respond.
You’re destroying Emily’s relationship with her father.
No response.
One day she will see the evidence.
I saved everything.
Then came the message that changed my understanding of him.
I gave you everything.
I stared at it.
Everything.
House.
Money.
Insurance.
Lifestyle.
In his mind, provision created ownership.
I typed a response.
Deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Finally:
Please keep communication limited to Emily’s care and scheduling.
That sentence took more strength than the speeches I imagined.
Meanwhile, Elaine accepted a plea agreement related to notary misconduct and financial documentation.
No prison.
Probation.
Fine.
Loss of commission.
Cooperation requirement.
Derek called it betrayal.
Elaine called me.
For the first time, I answered.
“Megan.”
“Yes.”
Her voice sounded older.
“I need to tell you something.”
“I have counsel.”
“This isn’t legal advice.”
“Then say it.”
Silence.
“I thought I was protecting my son.”
I closed my eyes.
“From what?”
“Losing what he built.”
“What did I build?”
She said nothing.
“The sixty thousand dollars?”
Silence.
“My salary?”
Nothing.
“The baby?”
“Megan—”
“No. You thought Derek losing control was the same thing as Derek being harmed.”
She started crying.
I had never heard Elaine cry.
“I raised him wrong.”
The statement surprised me.
But I refused to carry her absolution.
“You helped him.”
“I know.”
“That was a choice.”
“I know.”
“Then deal with your part.”
“I am trying.”
For once, she did not ask forgiveness.
That made the conversation more believable.
Before hanging up, she said:
“There’s a box.”
“What box?”
“Robert’s.”
Derek’s late father.
“Your father-in-law kept records Derek doesn’t know about.”
My pulse increased.
“Where?”
“In my basement.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because Robert warned me.”
“About what?”
“Derek.”
The box contained letters from Derek’s father written during the final year of his life.
Robert Collins had watched his son become increasingly obsessed with financial control.
One letter to Elaine read:
We taught Derek that money is safety. Somewhere along the way he learned that money is authority. Those are not the same thing.
Another:
Do not help him hide assets if his marriage fails. I did that during our separation and it damaged all of us.
Elaine had ignored him.
But the most important document was a loan ledger.
The mysterious $600,000 in Elaine’s account was partly explainable.
Robert had created a family reserve years earlier.
Some money legitimately belonged to Elaine.
Some to Derek.
But approximately $170,000 during our marriage clearly came from Derek’s income and joint assets.
The forensic accounting could now separate legitimate history from misconduct.
That mattered.
Truth became cleaner.
Not everything suspicious was stolen.
Not every accusation needed to be maximal.
We only needed what was real.
Then Robert’s final letter to Derek surfaced.
Derek had never opened it.
Elaine had kept it after his death.
Nina asked whether I wanted to know what it said.
I almost said no.
Then:
“Yes.”
Robert wrote:
Son, if you ever have to choose between being right and keeping control over someone you love, understand that control is usually the thing destroying the love.
Derek finally read it during deposition.
For the first time in hours, he stopped answering quickly.
His eyes filled.
Then he asked for a break.
It was the first time I saw evidence that anything
had reached him.
May you like
But consequences were still coming.
And remorse, if it existed, would not erase them.
