CHAPTER 5 — The Marriage That Was Never About Love
The words on the document blurred in front of my eyes.
I read them again.
Then again.
Because my mind refused to accept what I was seeing.
"Temporary Guardianship Transfer Agreement."
Signed.
By Eleanor.
Six months earlier.
My hands went cold.
She wasn't just trying to take my daughter.
She had been planning something much bigger.
"Richard?"
My attorney's voice came through the phone.
"Are you still there?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
My eyes were locked on Eleanor.
The woman standing across my living room.
The woman who had kissed me every morning.
The woman who had told me she wanted to heal my broken family.
The woman who had promised Sarah would always have a place in our home.
All lies.
"Eleanor..."
My voice was quiet.
But everyone heard it.
She looked at me.
"What?"
I held up my phone.
"Explain this."
For the first time that night...
her confidence disappeared.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
"You went through my private documents?"
I almost laughed.
"Your private documents?"
I stepped closer.
"This is about my daughter."
Her face hardened.
"Richard, you're emotional right now."
"No."
I shook my head.
"I'm finally thinking clearly."
The guests slowly began leaving.
Nobody wanted to be part of this anymore.
The beautiful dinner.
The expensive wine.
The perfect image Eleanor created.
It was collapsing in front of everyone.
Mrs. Gable stayed beside Maya.
Protecting her.
Watching Eleanor carefully.
My attorney was still on the phone.
"Richard, listen to me."
I put him on speaker.
Everyone heard.
"The document appears to be an attempt to establish Eleanor as Maya's temporary legal guardian in case of your incapacity."
My eyebrows lowered.
"My incapacity?"
The attorney continued.
"According to the paperwork, Eleanor claims you have an unpredictable work schedule, emotional instability after Sarah's death, and difficulty providing consistent care."
I looked at Eleanor.
She had written a story.
A story where I was the problem.
Where she was the solution.
A story where she would become the person everyone trusted.
And I would become the father who failed.
"You were preparing this while pretending to love my daughter."
Eleanor crossed her arms.
"Don't make this dramatic."
I stared at her.
"Don't make this dramatic?"
My voice rose.
"You locked my nine-year-old daughter in a pantry."
"I disciplined her."
"You isolated her."
"I taught her responsibility."
"You made her believe I didn't want her."
Her expression changed.
"You weren't around."
That sentence again.
The same weapon.
"You were always working. Always traveling. You think buying her everything replaces being there?"
The words hit hard.
Because part of them were true.
I wasn't perfect.
I missed school plays.
I missed bedtime stories.
I missed moments I could never get back.
But I never stopped loving my daughter.
And Eleanor knew that.
She knew exactly where to attack.
"You took my weaknesses..."
I stepped closer.
"And turned them into a weapon."
She stayed silent.
Then she said something I never expected.
"I was trying to fix what you couldn't."
I froze.
"What?"
She looked toward Maya.
"You were drowning in guilt because of Sarah."
My face changed.
"Don't talk about Sarah."
"You couldn't move forward."
Her voice became colder.
"Maya was the last connection to a life you refused to let go of."
My fists tightened.
"Stop."
"You needed someone who could create a new family."
She pointed at herself.
"Someone who could give you a fresh start."
I stared at her.
"And you thought that meant removing my daughter?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"I thought it meant changing your priorities."
I looked at Maya.
My daughter was crying silently.
Then I understood.
Eleanor wasn't jealous of Maya because she hated children.
She was jealous because Maya was proof that my heart belonged to someone else before her.
And she wanted that gone.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
Another message.
This time from my security director.
I opened it.
And my blood froze.
"Richard, I reviewed the house security footage from the past six months like you requested."
I looked at Eleanor.
"What did you find?"
The reply came instantly.
"Sir..."
A pause.
"There are over fifty recordings showing Eleanor entering Maya's room after midnight."
My heart stopped.
"What was she doing?"
Another pause.
Then:
"We don't know yet."
I looked at Maya.
"Maya..."
She immediately lowered her head.
I walked toward her.
"Sweetheart, did Eleanor come into your room at night?"
Her small body froze.
That was my answer.
"Maya."
Tears filled her eyes.
"She said she was checking if I was sleeping."
My voice became softer.
"What else?"
She grabbed my hand.
"Sometimes she took things."
"What things?"
"My drawings."
"Why?"
Maya looked terrified.
"Because she said Mommy's things were making me confused."
My chest tightened.
Sarah.
Even after death...
Eleanor was trying to erase her.
Then Mrs. Gable spoke.
"Richard..."
I turned.
She was holding another folder.
"There is something else you need to see."
"What?"
She opened it.
Inside were copies of school reports.
Medical notes.
Counseling records.
And one statement.
Written by Maya.
My daughter had written it months ago.
But never showed me.
I read the first line.
And my entire body went numb.
"My stepmother says if Daddy knows the truth, he will choose me and leave her."
I looked up.
Eleanor's face had lost all color.
Because she knew.
She knew the truth was finally out.
But then...
she smiled.
Not because she was innocent.
Because she still believed she had one last weapon.
"You think you won?"
Nobody spoke.
She reached into her purse.
And pulled out a small envelope.
She placed it on the table.
"This is why you will never take Maya away from me."
I stared at the envelope.
"What is that?"
Eleanor smiled.
"The reason the court will believe me."
My stomach tightened.
She pushed the envelope toward me.
Inside was a photograph.
A photograph of Maya.
And beside it...
a letter.
Signed with my name.
A letter I had never written.
My face went pale.
Because someone had forged my signature.
And Eleanor whispered:
May you like
"Now tell me, Richard..."
"How do you prove you didn't do something when the evidence says you did?"
