Karly Chandler POV:
The day after the confrontation, I moved with a quiet, determined resolve. The first thing I did was gather every financial document I could find: our joint bank statements, tax returns, utility bills, my own pay stubs. I needed a clear, undeniable picture of what we actually had, and what he had stolen.
I logged back into our joint account, meticulously cross-referencing every deduction, every payment. The automatic transfers to Jackie Reid stood out like a sore thumb, a recurring wound on our financial health. I printed out five years' worth of these transactions, each one a stark reminder of his betrayal. The total, $150,000, glared back at me from the stack of papers. It was irrefutable.
Next, I followed through on my request to Diana. She had already pulled the public property records for Jackie's house. I poured over them, confirming what Diana had told me: Jackie Reid was the sole owner. Jerrold was merely a co-signer on the mortgage. There was no ownership stake for him, no trust for Sam. It was all for Jackie. My heart hardened even further.
I also discovered another property he'd bought soon after we married, a small rental apartment. He'd never mentioned it. The income from it was going into another hidden account. I printed those records too. The web of deceit was deeper than I initially knew.
With a thick folder of evidence in hand, I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer Diana had recommended, Ms. Evelyn Reed, a sharp, no-nonsense attorney in downtown Austin. The office was modern, efficient, and surprisingly calming.
"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Ms. Reed," I said, placing the heavy folder on her desk.
She nodded, her gaze assessing. "Karly, let's get straight to it. Diana gave me a heads-up. Tell me everything."
I laid out the story, my voice steady, relaying the timeline of discovery, the hidden income, the secret payments, the property records. As I spoke, Ms. Reed reviewed the documents, her pen occasionally making notes.
"This is financial infidelity, Karly," she stated, her voice firm. "And a clear case of unauthorized disposition of community property."
"Can I get any of that money back?" I asked, a flicker of hope amidst the anger.
"Yes," she affirmed. "Texas is a community property state. Any assets acquired during the marriage are considered jointly owned. Your husband's unilateral decision to divert marital funds to his ex-wife, without your knowledge or consent, is a violation of that principle. And the mortgage payments are particularly egregious."
"What are my options?"
"We can start with an attempt at negotiation," Ms. Reed explained. "Present him with the evidence, demand a settlement. If he refuses, or if the terms are not favorable, we will proceed to litigation."
"And if we go to court?"
"Then we will seek to recover your half of the diverted funds. In this case, $75,000 of the $150,000 in mortgage payments. Plus other assets he hid. We'll also file for divorce, child custody, and child support." She paused. "Be aware, if we litigate, Jackie Reid may be brought into the process as a witness, or even as a party, given her involvement with the mortgage."
The thought of Jackie being dragged into this was unsettling, but I was past caring about protecting Jerrold's secrets. "What about his actual income?" I asked. "He consistently underreported it to me."
"We'll need to prove that," Ms. Reed said. "Do you have access to his pay stubs, W-2s, or tax returns?"
"No," I admitted. "He always handled those. I never saw them."
"How did he give you money for household expenses?"
"He would transfer $1,200 into our joint account monthly," I explained. "And then I managed everything from there."
Ms. Reed nodded. "That's useful. We can show a clear pattern of consistent, meager transfers, while proving his actual income was significantly higher. This indicates an intent to conceal."
"What else do I need to do?" I asked, ready for anything.
"We need proof you were unaware of these payments, Karly," she said. "And proof of his true income. His W-2s, pay stubs, income tax returns. We can request them, or if he refuses, we can subpoena them through the court during discovery."
"So, the evidence I have isn't enough?" I asked, a wave of disappointment washing over me.
"It's a strong start, Karly," Ms. Reed reassured me. "But we need more to solidify your case, especially about your lack of knowledge and his deliberate concealment. We need to show that this wasn't an agreed-upon arrangement, that you were truly deceived."
"How do I prove I didn't know?"
"Your testimony, your financial behavior-for instance, taking out that car repair loan when he claimed poverty. It all demonstrates your belief in his stated financial situation. And we need those official income documents to prove the extent of his actual earnings."
"I'll try to get them," I said, a plan already forming in my mind.
"For now," Ms. Reed advised, "go home. Don't engage with him emotionally. Gather any other documents you can. Anything that shows his true financial picture. But above all, remain calm and deliberate. Your composure will be your greatest asset." She looked at me, her gaze piercing. "What Jerrold did, Karly, it's not just a lie. It's a fundamental breach of trust. A financial betrayal that has serious legal consequences."
"I understand," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I stood up, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and empowerment.
Exiting Ms. Reed' s office, the weight of the past five years pressed down on me, but a new resolve surged within. I had a plan. I had a purpose.
My phone rang as I walked to my car. It was Jerrold. I ignored it, letting it ring. He called again. And again. Finally, I answered.
"Karly, where are you? Mom and Dad are still here. They're worried. Why aren't you home?" His voice was strained, agitated.
"I'm out," I said, my voice flat. "And I'm not coming home tonight. Tell your parents to leave."
"What? Karly, what's going on? What are you doing?"
"I'm collecting the rest of the missing pieces, Jerrold," I said, my voice hard. "The pieces of the truth you've been so careful to hide. And I'm going to expose every single one of them."
I hung up, cutting him off mid-sentence. My tires crunched on the gravel as I pulled out of the parking lot.
I called Diana, my best friend. "Hey."
"Karly! How are you holding up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "What did the lawyer say?"
"It's a strong case," I replied, a grim satisfaction in my tone. "But I need more evidence. I need Jerrold's official income documents. W-2s, pay stubs, tax returns."
"That'll be tough to get if he's actively hiding them," Diana mused. "But don't worry, we'll figure it out. I'm here for you, Karly. Always."
"I know," I said, a genuine warmth spreading through me. "Thank you, Diana. For everything."
"Anytime, hon," she said. "Just focus on yourself. And Leo. Let me know what you need."
I ended the call, a newfound clarity settling over me. The path ahead was daunting, but I wasn't alone. And I was no longer afraid. I was angry. And that anger was fueling a fierce determination to reclaim what was rightfully mine. I would get those documents. One way or another.
