Chapter 6 - The War of Affidavits
Two weeks after the service, the court battle entered the brutal, quiet phase of legal warfare.
From his office in Columbus, Derek launched a scorched-earth campaign. He hired a private investigative firm to trail Rachel’s apartment building in Shadyside. He cut off my access to our joint credit cards—which was a useless gesture, since I hadn't touched them—and attempted to remove me from his firm's executive health insurance policy.
That move backfired instantly.
Eleanor filed an emergency motion for contempt within two hours of the insurance cancellation notice. The Allegheny County family court judge, a sharp-witted woman named Judge Patricia Mercer, issued a temporary restraining order against Derek, ordering him to immediately reinstate full coverage for both Emily and me, plus pay five thousand dollars in my preliminary legal fees as a sanction for his bad-faith tactics.
I sat in Eleanor's conference room on a bright Tuesday afternoon, watching Emily sleep in her stroller while Eleanor reviewed Derek's official response affidavit.
"He's panicking," Eleanor noted, turning a page. "His lawyer is trying to claim you suffered from 'severe emotional instability' during the final trimester, which is why he left you home to 'calm down' while he attended a mandatory corporate function."
"He called my pregnancy a vacation," I said quietly, looking up from my notebook. "He told his mother I was throwing a tantrum."
"Well, his mother just made a huge mistake," Eleanor said, pulling a new set of documents from a red folder. "Evelyn Vance sent a five-page letter to our court clerk trying to testify on her son's character. She accidentally admitted in paragraph three that Derek told her he left you fifteen dollars on the counter because he thought you were being 'over-dramatics about early labor pains.'"
I let out a soft breath. "She admitted it?"
"She thought she was defending him by showing he left cash," Eleanor chuckled, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "She literally corroborated your entire timeline. In legal terms, she just handed us the silver bullet."
"What's the next step?"
"The preliminary custody hearing is set for next Thursday," Eleanor said, her tone becoming serious. "Derek is flying in with three lawyers. He's requesting split physical custody immediately—demanding that two-week-old Emily be transported back to Columbus every fortnight."
A cold spike of fear stabbed through my chest. "She's nursing, Eleanor! She's barely three pounds heavier than when she was born. I can't let him take her away on a highway for three hours each way!"
"He won't get split physical custody of an infant," Eleanor assured me, laying a firm hand over mine. "No judge in this state will separate a newborn from a nursing mother, especially with his track record. But he will be in that courtroom, Nina. You are going to have to see him face-to-face for the first time since you left that ring on his counter."
I leaned back in my chair, looking at the window where the autumn leaves were swirling in the wind.
For four years, the sight of Derek’s face when he was angry had been enough to make me apologize, even when I had done nothing wrong. His voice had possessed a strange, heavy authority that made me feel small, incompetent, and dependent.
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"I'm not afraid of him anymore," I said, and to my surprise, I meant it.
"Good," Eleanor said, shutting the file. "Because next Thursday, we aren't just defending your rights. We're going to make sure Derek Vance understands that he doesn't own the air you breathe."
