I looked at her.
“You will,” she continued. “Because I’m helping you get stable. I am not becoming another woman who permanently cleans up Eric’s responsibilities.”
That distinction mattered.
That evening, she sat at my kitchen table with a notebook.
“How much was in the savings account?”
I told her.
“Shared bills?”
I listed them.
“Furniture he took?”
I gave her the details.
“Medical expenses?”
I nodded.
Barbara wrote everything down carefully.
“He says most of the money was his,” I said.
“Then let the records determine that.”
So I collected everything I had.
Bank statements.
Screenshots.
Bills.
Messages.
Dates.
Amounts.
Receipts.
Things I had saved without realizing they might become important.
Then Barbara drove me somewhere I had not expected.
A family law office.
I stopped near the elevator.
“I can’t afford this.”
“The consultation has been covered.”
“Barbara—”
She raised one hand.
“After today, this is your case. Your lawyer handles it. I’m only opening a door.”
