Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Red Dress
I had spent years wondering whether Derek was capable of betraying me.
The answer was sitting on Rachel's phone beneath the glow of a restaurant chandelier.
Alyssa Grant's hand rested on his wrist as if it belonged there.
Derek was smiling at her in a way I had not seen him smile at me since before our wedding.
The velvet box between them was small enough to fit a ring.
For one irrational second, I told myself it could have been cuff links.
It could have been a watch.
It could have been anything except what it looked like.
Then Jenna sent another screenshot.
This one came from Alyssa's private account before it was deleted.
The photo showed the same table from a closer angle.
Derek's hand was wrapped around Alyssa's fingers.
The caption read:
Some promises are worth waiting for.
My throat closed.
Rachel sat beside me on the hospital bed.
"Do you want me to call Jenna?"
"Yes."
Jenna answered immediately.
"Megan?"
"I'm here."
"I'm so sorry."
I stared at the screenshot.
"How did you find this?"
"My cousin follows Alyssa."
Jenna's voice trembled with anger.
"She sent it to me because she recognized Derek."
"Did Alyssa delete it?"
"About twenty minutes after I saved it."
That mattered.
Everything suddenly mattered.
"Did you save the original screen recording?"
"Yes."
"Send it to Rachel and email it to me."
Rachel looked at me with surprise.
I almost smiled.
Evelyn had been teaching me for only a few hours, and already I was thinking in records instead of reactions.
Jenna sent three files.
The first was the restaurant story.
The second was Alyssa's post.
The third was a short video.
I nearly did not play it.
Then I pressed the screen.
Music and restaurant noise filled the room.
Alyssa was laughing while someone behind the camera panned across the table.
Derek leaned close to her.
I could not hear everything he said.
But I heard enough.
"After tonight, things change."
Alyssa smiled.
"You promise?"
Derek touched the velvet box.
"I promise."
The video ended.
My daughter shifted in the bassinet beside me.
I looked at her and felt the humiliation transform into something cleaner.
Anger.
Derek had not merely chosen work over the birth of his daughter.
He had lied about where he was going.
He had left me in labor so he could sit across from another woman and make promises.
Rachel whispered, "That wasn't a client dinner."
"No."
"Do you think he's been seeing her?"
I thought about late meetings.
Saturday calls.
The new shirts he suddenly cared about ironing himself.
The phone he had started carrying into the shower.
I thought about every time I had asked a question and been accused of being insecure.
"Yes."
The answer came out calmly.
That calm frightened Rachel more than tears would have.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I wasted a lot of time arguing with someone who already knew the truth."
I sent the files to Evelyn.
She called ten minutes later.
"Do not contact Alyssa."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
"Does this matter for custody?"
"An affair by itself is not the point."
I appreciated that she did not pretend otherwise.
"What may matter is that he lied about why he left, knew you were in active labor, and prioritized something else over helping you obtain care."
"He'll say I could have called an ambulance."
"Probably."
"He'll say I chose to leave."
"Probably."
"And he'll say I was emotional."
Evelyn paused.
"Probably."
I gripped the blanket.
"How do I fight someone who can rewrite everything?"
"With records."
She said it as if the word were a weapon.
"Not with outrage."
"Records."
"Exactly."
We began building them.
Rachel opened a spreadsheet.
I hated spreadsheets.
That afternoon, it became the most comforting thing in the room.
Date.
Event.
Witness.
Evidence.
We entered the fifteen dollars.
The missing account balance.
The frozen cards.
The phone shutoff.
The location tracking.
The messages calling me unstable.
The restaurant photos.
The jewelry box.
By the time we finished, I was staring at a marriage reduced to rows and timestamps.
It was devastating.
It was also undeniable.
At 9:13 p.m., Derek sent an email because he could no longer reach my phone directly.
Subject: Emily.
Megan,
You have had enough time to cool down.
I am willing to overlook what happened last night if you bring Emily home tomorrow.
We can tell everyone you panicked because of labor and made a bad decision.
I will not hold it against you.
If you refuse, I will have no choice but to protect myself and my daughter legally.
You are not thinking clearly, and your behavior proves it.
I want to resolve this privately before you embarrass yourself further.
Derek.
I read it twice.
Then I forwarded it to Evelyn.
Rachel read it over my shoulder.
"He will overlook it?"
I let out a short laugh.
It hurt my stitches.
"Apparently I've been forgiven."
Rachel sat back.
"He really thinks you're going home."
That was when I understood something important.
Derek did not believe I had left him.
He believed I was performing a temporary act of disobedience.
In his mind, the marriage was still intact because he had not agreed to end it.
The next morning, the hospital discharged me.
I dressed slowly in the loose gray pants Rachel had bought and the old sweatshirt she kept in her car.
Emily wore a yellow sleeper with tiny white stars.
I signed forms with one hand while Rachel packed diapers with the other.
Denise walked us to the elevator.
"You have a car seat?"
Rachel pointed proudly.
"Installed twice because I didn't trust myself the first time."
Denise smiled.
Then she looked at me.
"You don't owe anybody your address just because they demand it."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
"Take care of that little girl."
I looked down at Emily.
"I will."
We had almost reached the lobby when Rachel stopped walking.
Her hand closed around my arm.
"Don't look right away."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"What?"
"There is a man near the front entrance."
I kept my eyes on Emily.
"Derek?"
"No."
"Helen?"
"No."
Rachel turned slightly.
"I don't know him."
We changed direction and walked toward the security desk.
The man followed.
He wore a navy jacket and held a brown envelope.
Security stepped between us before he got close.
"Ma'am?"
The man raised both hands.
"I'm not here to cause trouble."
He looked directly at me.
"Megan Walsh?"
My married name sounded wrong already.
"Who's asking?"
He held up the envelope.
"Process server."
Rachel muttered something under her breath.
The man handed the papers to the security officer, who passed them to me.
I knew what they were before I opened them.
Derek had filed.
Emergency motion for temporary custody.
Request for immediate return of the minor child.
Allegations of maternal instability.
Allegations that I had fled while in active labor against my husband's attempts to provide care.
Allegations that I intended to conceal Emily from him permanently.
My vision blurred.
Rachel took the pages before I dropped them.
"He filed this yesterday?"
The process server nodded.
"Early afternoon."
Less than twelve hours after Emily was born.
He had not sent flowers.
He had sent a legal threat.
I looked down at the last page.
The hearing was scheduled in four days.
Four days.
I had not slept more than ninety minutes at a time.
I was still bleeding from childbirth.
My daughter had not even had her first pediatric appointment.
And Derek had already found a courtroom in which to call me unstable.
My hands began shaking.
Rachel reached for me.
"We call Evelyn."
I nodded.
Then the process server cleared his throat.
"There is something else."
I looked up.
He seemed uncomfortable.
"Mr. Walsh's attorney asked me to confirm whether you were still at this hospital."
Rachel's face hardened.
"How did they know?"
"I don't know."
He glanced toward the entrance.
"But whoever gave them the information was specific."
A cold feeling moved through me.
Only a handful of people knew exactly where I had delivered.
Rachel.
The hospital.
Evelyn.
May you like
My mother.
And someone had told Derek.
