Chapter 9
The psychological evaluation was held in a neutral office downtown. Beige walls, potted ferns, and a therapist named Dr. Owens who smelled like lavender and took notes in a leather journal.
She asked about my delivery, my emotional state, my support system. She asked about my plans for Leo.
I answered everything honestly.
Then she asked, "Do you harbor any ill will toward your husband?"
"Ex-husband," I corrected. "And yes. He stole my newborn and tried to give him to another woman. I think 'ill will' is the minimum reasonable response."
Dr. Owens smiled slightly. "Mrs. Ashford, you're remarkably composed for someone who's been through what you have."
"I have good people around me."
The evaluation concluded in forty-five minutes. Dr. Owens shook my hand and said the report would be filed within three days.
I walked out feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
Dominic was waiting in the lobby. He stood when he saw me, scanning my face.
"Fine," I said before he could ask. "Better than fine."
Something loosened in his shoulders. "Good. Now, there's something else."
In the car, he handed me a tablet. On the screen was a bank record — not mine.
"Ryan's personal account," Dominic explained. "Our forensic accountant found it. Over the past year, he transferred $287,000 into an account under Sienna's name."
Two hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars.
"That's—" I calculated quickly. "That's almost exactly what was in our joint savings."
"Correct. He was siphoning marital assets for over a year. Buying the house, furnishing the nursery, funding Sienna's lifestyle — all with your money."
The nursery. The one in that photo. The rocking chair, the custom mobile, the designer pajamas on my baby. All purchased with money that was half mine.
"Can we prove it?"
"Already proven. It's in the filing."
I leaned back in my seat. "He planned everything. The marriage, the pregnancy, all of it. I was never a wife to him. I was an incubator."
Dominic's jaw ticked. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Lily." His voice was low. "I need to tell you something, and I need you not to read into it right now."
I looked at him.
"Three years ago, the night before your wedding, when I told you not to marry Ryan — it wasn't because I thought he was a bad person." He kept his eyes on the road. "It was because I saw how he looked at Sienna at your engagement party. And I knew that a man who looks at another woman like that will never put his wife first."
I remembered that night. I'd been furious. I'd told Dominic he was jealous, presumptuous, cruel.
I'd almost cut ties with Harper over it.
"I'm not saying this to be right," he continued. "I'm saying this so you understand — when I tell you that you deserve better, I'm not speaking as your lawyer."
My chest ached.
"Dominic—"
"Not now." He pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. "After the divorce is final. After you've healed. After you're ready. If you're ever ready."
He got out of the car and came around to open my door, offering his hand as naturally as if he'd been doing it for years.
I took it.
And I didn't let go until I had to.
She asked about my delivery, my emotional state, my support system. She asked about my plans for Leo.
I answered everything honestly.
Then she asked, "Do you harbor any ill will toward your husband?"
"Ex-husband," I corrected. "And yes. He stole my newborn and tried to give him to another woman. I think 'ill will' is the minimum reasonable response."
Dr. Owens smiled slightly. "Mrs. Ashford, you're remarkably composed for someone who's been through what you have."
"I have good people around me."
The evaluation concluded in forty-five minutes. Dr. Owens shook my hand and said the report would be filed within three days.
I walked out feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
Dominic was waiting in the lobby. He stood when he saw me, scanning my face.
"Fine," I said before he could ask. "Better than fine."
Something loosened in his shoulders. "Good. Now, there's something else."
In the car, he handed me a tablet. On the screen was a bank record — not mine.
"Ryan's personal account," Dominic explained. "Our forensic accountant found it. Over the past year, he transferred $287,000 into an account under Sienna's name."
Two hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars.
"That's—" I calculated quickly. "That's almost exactly what was in our joint savings."
"Correct. He was siphoning marital assets for over a year. Buying the house, furnishing the nursery, funding Sienna's lifestyle — all with your money."
The nursery. The one in that photo. The rocking chair, the custom mobile, the designer pajamas on my baby. All purchased with money that was half mine.
"Can we prove it?"
"Already proven. It's in the filing."
I leaned back in my seat. "He planned everything. The marriage, the pregnancy, all of it. I was never a wife to him. I was an incubator."
Dominic's jaw ticked. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Lily." His voice was low. "I need to tell you something, and I need you not to read into it right now."
I looked at him.
"Three years ago, the night before your wedding, when I told you not to marry Ryan — it wasn't because I thought he was a bad person." He kept his eyes on the road. "It was because I saw how he looked at Sienna at your engagement party. And I knew that a man who looks at another woman like that will never put his wife first."
I remembered that night. I'd been furious. I'd told Dominic he was jealous, presumptuous, cruel.
I'd almost cut ties with Harper over it.
"I'm not saying this to be right," he continued. "I'm saying this so you understand — when I tell you that you deserve better, I'm not speaking as your lawyer."
My chest ached.
"Dominic—"
"Not now." He pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. "After the divorce is final. After you've healed. After you're ready. If you're ever ready."
He got out of the car and came around to open my door, offering his hand as naturally as if he'd been doing it for years.
I took it.
And I didn't let go until I had to.