Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN ON LASALLE STREET
At 8:05 the next morning, I sat across from attorney Naomi Cross on the thirty-fourth floor of a glass tower on LaSalle Street.
She wore a navy suit, no wedding ring, and the expression of someone who had heard every version of "he didn't mean it" and stopped believing all of them.
She scrolled through my folder in silence.
Photos of bruises Diane called discipline.
A cracked vase Jason had thrown beside me while Lily slept upstairs.
Messages from Brooke: You married above your station. Learn gratitude.
Pictures of chemical burns on my hands after Diane made me scrub her kitchen with industrial cleaner because, according to her, "a Bennett wife shouldn't be lazy."
Naomi finally looked up.
"How long have you been collecting this?"
"Three years."
"Why didn't you leave?"
I looked at Lily coloring beside me.
"Because I thought documenting it made me smart enough to survive it."
Naomi closed the file.
"No. It made you ready. There's a difference."
She filed for an emergency order of protection before lunch.
At 12:17, Jason called sixteen times.
At 12:23, Diane left a voicemail.
"You are destroying a good family over one little mistake. If you take my granddaughter from me, I swear—"
Naomi stopped the recording.
"Save that."
"Already did."
She almost smiled.
Then her assistant knocked and handed her a printed email.
Naomi's face changed.
"Your husband retained counsel this morning."
"Already?"
"Not just any counsel. Preston Hale. He handles high-asset custody cases."
I knew the name. Everyone in Chicago did.
Naomi slid the email across the desk.
Jason wasn't asking for joint custody.
May you like
He was seeking emergency sole custody of Lily.
And attached to his petition was a psychiatric evaluation I had never taken.
