Chapter 3He Lost Everything For A Child That Was Not His

I didn’t go find Savannah.

I went to see a lawyer.

Ms. Ellis, a sharp, composed woman, reviewed the materials I’d compiled. “The evidence is very strong, Eliza.”

“His transfer records to the third party, the car purchase records, the hotel stays—all valid evidence.”

“Under marital law, you can demand the return of any community property funds he gifted to a third party during the marriage.”

“Twelve months, four thousand a month. That’s forty-eight thousand dollars.”

“The fifteen-thousand-dollar down payment on the car also counts as marital property. You can demand that back, too.”

“That’s sixty-three thousand dollars total.”

“In addition, since he is the party at fault for the dissolution of the marriage, you can demand a larger share of the remaining assets, as well as compensation for emotional distress.”

I asked, “And the child support?”

“His income is twelve thousand a month. The statutory baseline is twenty to thirty percent, twenty-four hundred to thirty-six hundred. Given Leo’s needs, I recommend we demand thirty-five hundred.”

“If he disagrees, we file suit, and the court will set the amount.”

I nodded.

Ms. Ellis adjusted her glasses. “There’s one other issue.”

“What is it?”

“Do you have any community assets? A house, a car, joint savings?”

“No house. The car he drives was purchased before we were married, and it’s titled only in his name.”

“Savings?”

“I have about eight thousand in my personal account, from my salary over the last few years. His account…”

I showed her the bank statement on my phone. Patrick’s balance: $1,800.

Ms. Ellis frowned. “He’s been working for years, making twelve thousand a month. There’s no way he only has eighteen hundred dollars left.”

“Where’s the money?”

“I have no idea.”

“We need to investigate,” she said. “If he’s been liquidating or transferring community property to hide it, the court can penalize him severely.”

I left the law firm and drove straight to Patrick’s office building.

One of his colleagues, Mike, looked surprised to see me.

“Liz? Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Patrick.”

“He’s on leave. Said he was taking an impromptu trip.”

“A trip where?”

“Didn’t say.”

I opened my phone and pulled up Patrick’s social media.

He had posted a photo yesterday.

It was a sunset on a beach, with the back of a woman’s head in the foreground.

The caption: Much-needed R&R.

I zoomed in on the picture. I could clearly see the bracelet on the woman’s wrist: a David Yurman Cable Bracelet. Retail: $2,500.

I had seen that bracelet before.

Last month, Patrick had asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I’d suggested a simple, affordable bracelet—maybe a hundred dollars.

He’d scoffed. “A hundred dollars? That’s too cheap, Eliza. I’ll get you something nice.”

Then he never mentioned it again.

Now I knew.

He bought it.

For Savannah.

$2,500.

I went home, booted up my old desktop, and logged into Patrick’s email. The password was our wedding anniversary. He hadn't bothered to change it.

There was an unread email from his bank.

Dear Patrick J. [Zhou], a transfer of $100,000 from your account ending in 8888 was initiated on October 15th, 2024. Your current balance is $500.

I froze.

One hundred thousand dollars.

Where did he move it?

I scrolled further and found the electronic statement.

October 15th. Transfer of $100,000. Recipient: Diane J.

Diane J. was Patrick’s mother.

He had moved the money to his mom.

I sat there, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

He had been planning this for months. Liquidate assets, transfer the cash, file for divorce, hide the money, and try to get away with paying me and Leo five hundred dollars a month.

My phone rang. It was Patrick.

“Eliza, what were you doing at Ms. Ellis’s office?”

“You’re spying on me?”

“A college buddy works in that building. He saw you.”

“I was consulting an attorney about the divorce.”

“Consulting what? Just sign the damn papers!”

“I won’t sign them.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I’ll see you in court.”

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Go ahead. Sue me. I don’t have any money.”

“You have one hundred thousand dollars.”

Silence on the other end.

After a long time, he spoke. “You went through my email?”

“It’s community property, Pat. I have a right to know where our money went.”

“That money is my mother’s! It’s not marital property!”

“Is that so? We’ll let a judge decide.”

I hung up.

Leo ran over. “Mom, where’s Dad?”

“Dad’s on a work trip, sweetie.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Leo looked up at me, his small face serious. “Mom, are you and Dad getting a divorce?”

I knelt and pulled him into a desperate hug.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I don’t want you to,” he whimpered.

I started to cry, too.

But I knew I couldn’t back down.

I called Ms. Ellis.