Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS “UNSTABLE”
At my next court hearing, Austin looked directly at me for the first time in weeks.
He wore a navy suit.
No wedding ring.
Neither did I.
Brenda wasn’t there.
She had been released pending further investigation but ordered to have no contact with me and surrender her passport.
The hearing concerned temporary financial relief and exclusive possession of the condo.
Austin’s new attorney argued that because he had lived there for years, removing him caused hardship.
Melanie stood.
“Your Honor, the property was purchased by my client before marriage.”
The judge reviewed the deed.
“Correct.”
“Additionally, Mr. Carter is joint owner of another residence in Lakewood County.”
The judge looked at Austin.
“You own another home?”
His attorney stood.
“Partially.”
“So you have somewhere to live.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then what hardship are we discussing?”
That ended quickly.
I received exclusive possession.
Austin received temporary access only with notice to retrieve remaining belongings.
Then his attorney tried something else.
“Your Honor, we have concerns regarding Mrs. Carter’s recent emotional state.”
Melanie stiffened.
I felt the trap open.
The attorney continued.
“There are medical records suggesting cognitive symptoms.”
Melanie almost smiled.
“Records currently under investigation as fraudulent?”
The courtroom shifted.
The judge looked up.
“Explain.”
Melanie handed over documentation from my actual physicians.
“No treating physician has diagnosed Mrs. Carter with cognitive impairment. The disputed documents were generated through a concierge provider Mrs. Carter states she never visited. Financial investigators are reviewing possible identity misuse.”
Austin whispered urgently to his attorney.
Too late.
The judge looked displeased.
“Counsel, were you aware the records were disputed?”
His attorney hesitated.
“We were aware questions existed.”
“Then calling them medical evidence without that context is inappropriate.”
Austin stared down at the table.
For years, the word unstable had been a weapon.
Too sensitive.
Too emotional.
Too dramatic.
Too controlling.
Too anxious.
Now, under fluorescent courtroom lights, the weapon broke.
Afterward, Austin approached me in the hallway.
Melanie immediately stepped between us.
“I just want thirty seconds,” he said.
I looked at her.
She nodded cautiously.
Austin’s face was pale.
“I didn’t create those medical records.”
I believed he might be telling the truth.
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brenda?”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“You always know less when your mother might be responsible.”
“That’s not fair.”
I almost smiled.
“You should retire that sentence.”
He looked exhausted.
“I knew she thought you had anxiety.”
“I don’t.”
“I know.”
“She told Claire I was dying.”
His eyes closed.
“She told me you’d started having memory problems.”
“And you believed her?”
“No.”
“But you used the records in court.”
“My attorney did.”
“Because you gave them to him.”
He said nothing.
There it was.
Even when Austin didn’t create the lie, he used it when convenient.
I stepped away.
“Nina.”
I stopped.
“My mother is sick.”
I looked back.
“Then she should get help.”
“You don’t understand.”
“That’s another sentence you should retire.”
His eyes filled with anger.
“You think this is easy for me?”
I stared at him.
“No, Austin. I think this is finally inconvenient for you.”
I walked away.
Three days later, something happened that none of us expected.
Brenda contacted the prosecutor through her attorney and offered cooperation.
Against Austin.
Melanie called me immediately.
“She may be trying to reduce her own exposure.”
“By blaming him?”
“Yes.”
“What is she saying?”
“That Austin orchestrated the financial transfers.”
That wasn’t surprising.
“She claims he forged your signatures.”
Also plausible.
“She claims she believed the money was legitimately his.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Likely.”
“What about my documents on her memory card?”
“She says Austin asked her to photograph them.”
I laughed.
Of course.
“And the fake medical records?”
“She says Austin arranged everything.”
“Insurance?”
“Austin.”
“Claire?”
“She claims Austin manipulated both of you.”
Brenda had found a new role.
Not villain.
Not victim of me.
Victim of her son.
The woman was adaptable.
Then Austin’s attorney offered his version.
Brenda controlled everything.
She convinced him to move money.
She forged signatures.
She accessed my medical records.
She pushed him toward Claire because she wanted grandchildren.
She was the mastermind.
Mother and son were finally doing to each other what they had done to me for years.
Rewriting reality.
Assigning blame.
Claiming helplessness.
The difference was that this time, investigators had records.
The truth would not depend on who cried loudest.
Five days before my birthday, Claire asked to meet me.
We chose a café near Melanie’s office.
Claire looked different without glamorous photographs around her.
Tired.
Pregnant.
Ashamed.
She kept both hands around a cup of tea.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
She looked surprised by my directness.
I continued.
“You knowingly slept with my husband.”
“I know.”
“You entered a business with his mother.”
“Yes.”
“You visited a house bought partly with money stolen from our marriage.”
“I didn’t know that part.”
“I believe you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I kept believing what I wanted to believe.”
I understood that better than she expected.
She whispered, “Austin told me you two hadn’t slept together in almost a year.”
“That was false.”
Her face reddened.
“He said you were planning separate lives.”
“False.”
“He said you didn’t want children.”
I stared at her.
“That was also false.”
Claire wiped her cheek.
“He told me you were focused on your career.”
“I was.”
“He made it sound like that was why your marriage was dead.”
I leaned back.
“Women don’t destroy marriages by having jobs, Claire.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked down.
Silence passed.
Finally, she opened her handbag.
“I brought something.”
She slid an envelope across the table.
Inside was an ultrasound photograph.
I stared.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look at the date.”
I did.
Then looked again.
The estimated gestational age didn’t match what Austin had told me.
Not thirteen weeks.
Nearly eighteen.
I felt my pulse quicken.
“He lied about when the affair started.”
Claire nodded.
“How long?”
“Last October.”
Nearly a year.
I closed my eyes.
“Why show me?”
“Because there’s something else.”
She placed her phone on the table.
An audio file.
“I started recording conversations after the night I called you.”
She pressed play.
Austin’s voice filled the small space.
You need to stop panicking.
Claire:
The police found Nina’s records.
Austin:
My mother keeps everything. That doesn’t mean anything.
Claire:
What was supposed to happen after Nina’s birthday?
Silence.
Then Austin.
We were supposed to leave.
Claire:
With what money?
Austin:
Enough.
Claire:
Hers?
A long pause.
Austin:
Once money enters a marriage, ownership gets complicated.
Claire:
Only if she puts it into joint accounts.
Austin:
She did it before.
My body went cold.
The recording continued.
Claire:
And if she didn’t this time?
Another long pause.
Then Austin said:
Mom had another plan.
The audio ended.
I stared at Claire.
“What plan?”
She shook her head.
“He refused to say.”
May you like
My birthday was five days away.
For the first time in my life, I wished it wouldn’t come.
