Chapter 6 - THE TEA WITH EMILY
At 2:00 PM on Tuesday, I met Emily at a quiet, secluded tea room on the outskirts of Upper Arlington.
Emily sat at a corner booth, wearing a simple beige sweater that accentuated her six-month pregnant belly. Her eyes were red and swollen, dark circles framing her face. She looked exhausted, broken, and terrified.
When I sat down across from her, she looked at me with a mix of profound guilt and intense curiosity.
"Thank you for coming, Claire," Emily whispered, her hands trembling as she held her tea mug.
"I didn't come to fight with you, Emily," I said gently. "You didn't know what happened four years ago. You were caught in the middle of Mark's narrative."
Emily let out a shaky breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Mark told me you were obsessed with money. He told me you refused to get fertility treatments. He told me you drove him away because you hated children."
I let out a bitter, quiet laugh. "I spent seven years taking hormone injections, undergoing invasive procedures, and crying over negative tests while Mark complained about the cost. He told his family I was defective because his ego couldn't handle the doctor's diagnosis of shared unexplained infertility."
Emily covered her face with her hands, sobbing softly. "I knew something was wrong... he has such a terrible temper whenever things don't go his way. Since Saturday, he's been screaming at his mother, screaming at his lawyers, demanding that I come home and pretend nothing happened."
"Where are you staying?" I asked.
"At my parents' house in New Albany," Emily revealed. "My father is a retired corporate attorney. When I told him what happened at the shower, he pulled Mark's financial statements from our joint account."
She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a manila folder, sliding it across the table to me.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Mark spent forty thousand dollars from our joint savings account over the last six months," Emily revealed, her voice dripping with disgust. "He hired a private investigator last year to track your address in Westerville."
My blood ran cold. My heart hammered against my ribs. "He knew where I lived?"
"He didn't know about the twins," Emily clarified quickly. "The investigator only reported that you were living alone in a townhouse. Mark hired him because he wanted to make sure you weren't dating anyone. He wanted to make sure you were miserable without him before he sent that baby shower invitation."
I stared at the paper in disbelief. The sheer, pathological vanity of my ex-husband was horrifying. He hadn't just moved on—he had actively monitored my life from afar to ensure I was suffering before delivering his handwritten insult.
"He's a monster, Claire," Emily whispered, wiping her face. "I'm filing for divorce tomorrow morning."
I looked at the pregnant woman sitting across from me, feeling a deep, unexpected wave of sisterhood wash over us.
"You're making the right choice, Emily," I said softly, reaching out to squeeze her cold hand. "Don't let him raise your child in a house built on lies."
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Emily looked up, a resolute, strong light finally shining in her tear-filled eyes. "My child will grow up knowing the truth. And when your boys are ready... I want them to know their half-sibling."
I smiled warmly. "I'd like that very much."
