Chapter 5 - Brooke’s Version of the Future
Brooke left Nathan three weeks after the hearing.
I did not know at first.
Lila mentioned it.
“Brooke doesn’t come to Dad’s anymore.”
I kept my face neutral.
“Okay.”
“Are you happy?”
Children ask direct questions adults avoid.
“I’m glad things are quieter for you.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Nine years old.
Already a prosecutor.
“I don’t miss having Brooke involved in parenting decisions.”
Lila nodded.
“Me neither.”
That was all.
Two days later, Brooke’s attorney contacted Rachel.
Brooke wanted to provide information.
I almost refused.
Rachel did not.
“People become very informative after relationships end badly.”
“I don’t care about their breakup.”
“You may care why it happened.”
We met in Rachel’s office.
Brooke looked completely different without Nathan beside her.
No burgundy dress.
No polished certainty.
She wore jeans and a gray sweater.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“I know that doesn’t mean much.”
“It means exactly as much as your next sentence.”
That surprised her.
Good.
Brooke placed a folder on the table.
“Nathan lied to me.”
“I’m aware he does that.”
She flinched.
“He told me you agreed I could attend the recital.”
“You edited the incident plan.”
Her face reddened.
“I did.”
“So you knew there was no agreement.”
“He said your lawyer was creating problems and that the court order was temporary.”
“That does not answer me.”
Brooke looked down.
“No.”
There it was.
Finally.
“I knew you had not personally told me I could come.”
“And my seat?”
“He told me you were sitting with your mother.”
“Flowers?”
Her eyes filled.
“His idea.”
“The card?”
“His.”
“The words ‘Dad & Brooke’?”
She hesitated.
“Mine.”
At least she owned something.
“Why?”
“Because I thought we were becoming a family.”
“You already had to remove someone to create it.”
She cried.
I did not comfort her.
Then Brooke pushed the folder toward me.
“Nathan told me you were planning to move.”
My attention sharpened.
“Where?”
“Richmond. To help your mother.”
My mother lived outside Richmond.
I visited often.
I had never planned to move.
“He said once the divorce finished, you wanted a smaller apartment near your mom and would probably accept more weekend parenting.”
I almost laughed.
That fantasy solved everything for Nathan.
He kept the house.
Lila.
Brooke.
My former role.
And I voluntarily relocated to become the distant mother his records were already describing.
“Did he show you anything supporting that?”
“Yes.”
A text.
Supposedly from me.
I read the screenshot.
I don’t know how long Mom will need me. Richmond may make sense eventually. Lila needs consistency even if that means more time with you.
I had never written it.
The profile photo was mine.
The contact name was Vivian.
But the phone number visible at the top was not.
A burner.
Brooke had believed Nathan was forwarding my messages.
“He created a fake text conversation?”
“I think so.”
“How many?”
Brooke opened her phone.
Fourteen screenshots.
Imaginary Vivian was extraordinarily cooperative.
I wanted Nathan to keep the house.
I accepted Brooke attending school events.
I recognized Lila was “closer to stability” with Nathan.
I worried my mother would need long-term help.
I did not want a custody fight.
Again and again, fake me chose disappearance.
Rachel looked at Brooke.
“Why didn’t you ever message Vivian directly?”
Brooke’s face crumpled.
“Because I didn’t want to know.”
That was the first sentence I respected.
Not because it excused her.
Because it was true.
She continued.
“Nathan told me you were manipulative.”
I almost smiled.
“Convenient.”
“He said direct contact would give you an opportunity to attack me.”
“So you accepted screenshots instead.”
“Yes.”
Then she told us why she left.
Nathan had shown her a draft property proposal.
He planned to keep our house “for Lila’s stability.”
Brooke would move in after a transition period.
The document valued my share of the equity and proposed buying me out.
Normal enough.
Then Brooke noticed an attachment.
BROOKE OCCUPANCY AGREEMENT.
It gave her permission to live in the house after divorce.
But only as a revocable occupant.
No ownership.
No long-term protection.
No equity.
Nathan had told her they would own it together.
“He said it would be our home.”
I stared.
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
Welcome.
Then she found something worse.
A note from Nathan to his attorney.
If Brooke becomes difficult or creates custody optics, delay cohabitation.
Custody optics.
Brooke finally understood.
She had not merely been Nathan’s future wife.
She had been part of his case.
Useful while calm.
Disposable if inconvenient.
“He used both of us,” she whispered.
“No.”
I corrected her.
“He used you.”
She looked up.
“And he tried to use me.”
That distinction mattered.
I would not give Nathan credit for succeeding where he failed.
Brooke handed over the burner-number records, fake messages, screenshots, and copies of the Transition folder she had saved.
Then one final document.
A draft school transfer request.
For Lila.
A private academy outside Richmond.
I stared.
“What is this?”
“Nathan said if you really moved closer to your mother, he might eventually relocate too.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Then I saw the address attached to his draft relocation application.
Not Richmond.
Henrico County.
A townhouse.
Lease application submitted jointly by Nathan and Brooke.
Three months earlier.
Before our formal separation.
Nathan had apparently planned multiple futures at once.
Stay here and keep Lila primarily.
Or move toward Richmond and argue that he was preserving access to both parents.
May you like
Either way, he wanted the same thing.
Control over where everyone landed.
