Chapter 7: The Notepad
Derek put on gloves before he touched it.
Not because it was a crime scene — but because he was careful, and careful people put on gloves.
He laid the notepad flat on the conference table under the overhead light and they both looked at it.
The top sheet had been torn off.
The impressions remained.
Three columns.
Faint, but readable.
The first column had two names: Ruth.
CPS.
The second column had what looked like a timeline.
Morning.
Before he leaves.
After school.
Evening visit.
The third column had three phrases pressed harder than the rest, as though whoever wrote them had been certain of them.
*Guardianship petition.*
*Joint asset claim.*
*His word vs.
mine.*
Derek looked at it for a long moment without speaking.
"She mapped this out," Marcus said.
"She mapped this out." Derek straightened up.
"This isn't a spouse who lost her temper.
This is a coordinated plan with a timeline and three separate legal pressure points." He looked at Marcus.
"She intended to use Ruth to remove Nia.
She intended to use CPS to create an official record against you.
And she intended to use the marriage assets as leverage to keep you from fighting back." He paused.
"If Caleb hadn't recorded her.
If Ava hadn't spoken.
If you hadn't come home early."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Marcus looked at the notepad.
At the words pressed into the paper by a hand that had been very sure of itself.
*His word vs.
mine.*
That had been the plan.
That had always been the plan.
Strip away the witnesses, strip away the evidence, leave only two versions of the same night — and make sure hers was the one with official documentation behind it.
"What do I do with this?" Marcus asked.
"We photograph it here, now, with a timestamp.
Then I take it into evidence storage." Derek picked up his phone and took several photos from different angles.
"I'm going to file for an emergency protective order for Nia today.
Given the CPS report, the recording, the messages, and this — a judge will grant it." He set the phone down.
"I'm also going to contact CPS directly and inform them that the report was filed as part of a documented plan to gain legal leverage.
They need to know before Thursday."
"And the second phone?"
"If this goes to court, her phone records become discoverable.
Both phones." Derek capped his pen.
"She made a mistake, Marcus.
Several of them.
But the biggest one was writing it down."
Marcus's phone buzzed on the table.
He looked at the screen.
Vanessa again.
But this time it wasn't a message.
It was a contact request from an unknown number — the kind that comes through a legal messaging app, the kind lawyers use when they want a record of delivery.
He opened it.
*Mr.
Marcus Webb.
This is a formal notice that my client, Vanessa Webb, intends to file for legal separation and is pursuing an emergency petition for the removal of Nia Webb from the family home on the grounds of parental instability and documented risk.
A hearing has been requested for Friday morning.
You will receive official court notification within 24 hours.
Please ensure you are represented by counsel.*
Marcus set the phone down on the table.
Derek had already read it over his shoulder.
"Friday," Marcus said.
"That's two days." Derek was already moving, pulling a fresh legal pad toward him.
"She found a lawyer who's willing to file fast.
That tells me she went in with documentation — probably the video, probably a written account of last night framed from her perspective." He looked at Marcus.
"She's not bluffing anymore."
"Can she win?"
Derek looked at him directly.
"Not with what we have.
But she can make it painful.
And she can make Nia sit through a hearing." He paused.
"Unless we file first."
"File what?"
"A counter-petition.
Documenting the false CPS report, the staged video, the recorded admission, the threatening messages, and the premeditated plan evidenced by this notepad." He tapped the photograph on his phone screen.
"We file tonight.
We request that her petition be dismissed on the grounds of bad faith.
And we request that the court note the pattern of coordinated action against a minor child."
Marcus looked at the legal notice on his phone screen.
He thought about Nia at Ruth's house, unpacking her backpack, setting her bear on a pillow that wasn't her own.
He thought about the suitcase by the door.
He thought about *his word vs.
mine*, pressed hard into a piece of paper by someone who had been very sure he wouldn't find it.
"File tonight," he said.
May you like
Derek was already writing.
And two days felt, for the first time, like enough time.
