Chapter 6: The Serving
501 words
The Honda Civic smelled of mildew and old coffee. Sarah curled her legs up to her chest in the driver's seat, trying to preserve body heat as the windows fogged over with her shallow breaths.
Outside, the storm that had drenched her belongings was now hammering the roof of her last sanctuary. The rhythm was deafening, a relentless drumbeat against her sanity.
She wasn't just homeless. She was hunted.
A sharp rap on the glass made her jump, her knee slamming into the steering wheel.
Panic spiked in her chest. A dark silhouette loomed outside the rain-streaked window. A flashlight beam cut through the gloom, blinding her.
"Open up!" a voice barked, muffled by the glass.
Police? Had Julian called the cops to remove her car from the curb too?
Sarah rolled the window down two inches. Cold rain sprayed her face instantly.
"Sarah Jenkins?"
The man wasn't a cop. He was a thick-necked stranger in a yellow poncho, holding a plastic-wrapped exaltation of legal misery. He didn't wait for an answer. He saw the terror in her eyes, matched it to the photo on his clipboard, and shoved the packet through the crack.
"You've been served."
He turned and splashed back toward a dry, idling sedan without a backward glance. To him, she was just another ticket punched.
Sarah’s trembling fingers tore at the plastic. The interior dome light flickered—her car battery was dying, another countdown she couldn't stop.
The header on the thick document was embossed, heavy stock paper that cost more than her car.
PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE
Petitioner: Julian Blackwood Respondent: Sarah Jenkins
The words swam. She expected divorce papers. She expected cruelty. But as her eyes scanned the 'Grounds for Dissolution' section, the breath left her lungs entirely.
"Petitioner moves to deny all spousal support and alimony requests based on Respondent’s gross misconduct and psychological volatility."
Psychological volatility.
He wasn't just leaving her. he was building a narrative. He was painting her as crazy to protect his assets.
She flipped the page, the paper dampening under her wet fingertips.
Paragraph 4, Subsection B struck her like a physical blow.
"Furthermore, the Petitioner asserts that the Respondent has engaged in a pattern of deceit, specifically regarding a medical condition—to wit, a fictitious pregnancy—utilized as an extortionary tactic to secure financial leverage over the Petitioner."
Fictitious.
A sob tore from her throat, raw and jagged.
He knew. He had seen the tests. He had been there when the doctor said the words 'high risk.'
But suddenly, the strategy clicked into place. If she was 'crazy' and the pregnancy was 'fake' in the eyes of the court, he didn't have to support a sick child. He didn't have to admit his DNA was anything less than perfect.
Sarah pressed a hand to her cramping stomach, staring at the legal stamp that branded her a liar.
Julian wasn't just divorcing her. He was erasing the baby's existence before it was even born.
End of Chapter 6
