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When Rachel opened the door, she took one look at my face and stepped aside.
“Kids, upstairs,” she said calmly. “Cartoons. Snacks are in the kitchen.”
The door closed.
I collapsed onto the couch.
“He listed the house,” I said. My voice barely worked. “And he forged my signature.”
Rachel didn’t react right away.
Then her face changed completely.
I nodded. My hands were shaking in my lap. “And he said I don’t have a choice if I want the kids to have a father.”
Rachel grabbed her phone immediately.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“My friend Jenna is a lawyer. Family law.
Property. She’s going to tell you exactly what to do.”
The following morning, I sat at Rachel’s dining table across from a woman with kind eyes and a sharp, focused expression. Jenna listened without interrupting.
She asked questions. Took notes.
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