Chapter 2 - The Guillotine Drops
At 8:00 AM the next morning, Grant executed his threats.
I was sitting in the kitchen of my newly purchased, fully furnished four-bedroom house in a beautiful, gated suburb when my old cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Grant.
I just canceled the credit cards. The phone gets shut off at noon. Tell me where you are, bring the kids back, and apologize to my mother and Tessa, or you can figure out how to pay for that baby on your own.
I didn't reply. I simply took the SIM card out, snapped it in half, and tossed the old phone into the trash. I picked up my new phone, operating on a private plan, and called my attorney.
"Execute the filings," I said.
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By noon, Grant wasn't gloating. He was being served at his corporate office by a private process server. The documents didn't just include a divorce petition citing gross moral turpitude. They included a temporary restraining order, granted immediately by a judge who had listened to the audio recording of Grant threatening to financially abuse and abandon his heavily pregnant wife. The order legally barred him from coming within five hundred feet of me, the children, or my new property, and it granted me absolute, exclusive temporary custody.
He was paralyzed. He had expected me to be begging on the streets. Instead, he was legally gagged and cornered.
