He was speaking on the phone.
“I’ll get custody,” he said calmly. “Once that happens, the money situation becomes simple. She won’t have the strength to fight anything after that.”
A murmur moved through the courtroom like a breeze through dry leaves.
On the screen, Caleb leaned against the counter, swirling a glass of water as if discussing something routine rather than dismantling a family piece by piece.
“You said the account is secure?” he asked whoever was on the other end. “Good. I’ve been moving things slowly so she doesn’t notice.”
My chest tightened as the judge leaned closer to the monitor.
The video continued, steady and quiet, Harper’s small hands clearly visible for a moment as she had adjusted the tablet weeks earlier without Caleb realizing.
“I told Harper not to mention anything,” Caleb said in the recording. “Kids repeat everything if you let them talk too much.”
In the courtroom, Caleb shifted in his chair.
His lawyer whispered something urgently, but he kept his eyes fixed on the screen like a man watching his own reflection crack apart.
On the recording, Caleb sighed.
“I just need the judge to see her as unstable,” he said softly. “Once custody is done, I’ll clean up the financial mess.”
Someone behind me inhaled sharply.
The judge lifted one hand slightly, signaling the room to remain quiet as the video continued playing.
Caleb laughed lightly in the recording, a sound that made my stomach twist because I had heard that same laugh at our anniversary dinners.
