Chapter 113: WHAT HE OWES HER

FRIDAY

9:14 A.M. — CALLOWAY RESIDENCE

ALLISON’S POV

Allison Croft Calloway was attempting to understand compound interest.

Attempting being the important word.

She sat at her desk surrounded by three notebooks, a calculator, two highlighters, and a cup of coffee that had gone cold approximately forty minutes earlier.

Her accounting workbook lay open.

Across the page, she’d written:

MONEY MAKES MONEY. WHY DOES MATH HAVE TO BE INVOLVED?

Her phone rang.

Simone.

Allison answered on speaker.

"If you’re calling to distract me from studying, I love you."

"Wonderful. Put on something cute."

Allison blinked.

"Why?"

"We’re going out."

"Where?"

"To see Sharon."

Allison sat upright.

"Sharon?"

"Yes. Sharon Morrison. Formerly obsessed with Anthony, currently obsessed with a six-month-old dictator named Mila."

Allison laughed.

"Why are we going?"

"Because she called me yesterday."

That surprised Allison.

"She called you?"

"Don’t sound so shocked. I’m delightful."

"You’re terrifying."

"Both can be true."

Allison closed her workbook.

"What did she want?"

Simone’s voice softened.

"She asked whether I knew a good family-law attorney."

Allison stopped smiling.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not with Mila. Sharon said Anthony’s lawyers are trying to settle the divorce without addressing some money she believes belongs to her."

Allison frowned.

"Did she sign anything?"

"No. Which means she’s learning."

Allison stood.

"Give me thirty minutes."

"Twenty."

"Simone."

"Twenty-five. Final offer."

The call ended.

Allison stared at her phone.

Then smiled.

"Well, Sharon. Looks like we’re having a girls’ day."

?

10:32 A.M. — SHARON’S APARTMENT

Sharon opened the door wearing black leggings, an oversized cream sweater, and the exhausted expression of a woman who had recently negotiated with a very small person who refused to nap.

She stared at Allison.

Then Simone.

"You brought reinforcements?"

Simone lifted a pink gift bag.

"I brought presents."

Sharon looked suspicious.

"For who?"

"Mila. Obviously."

Allison lifted a bakery box.

"And I brought breakfast."

Sharon stepped aside.

"Fine. Come in."

Simone entered first.

"Your hospitality is overwhelming."

"You’re welcome to leave."

"See? This is why I like you."

Allison laughed as she followed them inside.

The apartment was warm and tidy, although a colorful play mat occupied most of the living-room floor.

Baby toys were scattered around a small basket.

A framed photograph of Sharon holding Mila sat on the bookshelf.

There were no photographs of Anthony.

Not one.

Allison noticed.

She didn’t comment.

Mila sat on the play mat wearing a purple onesie, chewing enthusiastically on a teething toy.

Simone gasped.

"Oh, she’s gorgeous!"

Sharon immediately looked pleased.

"She knows."

Allison crouched beside the baby.

"Hi, Mila."

Mila stared at her.

Then smiled.

Allison placed a hand over her heart.

"Oh, we’re friends."

Sharon folded her arms.

"She smiles at the vacuum cleaner too."

"Jealousy is ugly, Sharon."

Simone burst out laughing.

For several minutes, they forgot why they’d come.

Simone inspected Mila’s tiny shoes.

Allison let the baby grab her finger.

Sharon made coffee.

And somehow, the three women who had once stood on opposite sides of some of the ugliest moments in their lives ended up sitting together on a living-room floor.

It was strange.

But not unpleasant.

Eventually, Sharon cleared her throat.

"So."

Allison looked up.

"So?"

"You know why you’re here."

Simone sat back against the couch.

"Unfortunately, yes. Because your ex has apparently found a way to be irritating from a distance."

Sharon sighed.

"He’s still my husband."

The room quieted.

Allison looked at her.

"Legally?"

Sharon nodded.

"Legally."

?

11:06 A.M. — SHARON’S LIVING ROOM

SHARON’S POV

Saying it aloud still felt ridiculous.

Anthony Morrison.

Her husband.

The man she’d once defended against everyone.

The man she’d believed would give her everything.

And the man whose name was still printed beside hers on legal documents she desperately wanted finished.

Sharon reached for a folder.

"I filed while I was pregnant."

Allison listened.

"Anthony’s attorney kept requesting delays. Then his financial accounts became part of the investigation, and my lawyer said we needed to be careful about what money we accepted."

"That makes sense," Allison said.

Sharon nodded.

"I know. I don’t want anything that belongs to his victims. I don’t want stolen money."

Simone leaned forward.

"Then what are they offering?"

Sharon opened the folder.

"A settlement."

Allison glanced at the first page.

"Have you agreed?"

"No."

"Good."

Sharon looked offended.

"I’m not stupid."

"I didn’t say you were."

"You had the expression."

"That’s my reading expression."

Simone took the document.

"Your reading expression is judgmental."

"Thank you, Simone."

"Anytime."

Sharon shook her head.

Then grew serious.

"Anthony had accounts and investments before everything happened. Some were funded during our marriage. His lawyer says most of them are unavailable because of the legal proceedings."

"That may be true for some," Allison said carefully.

"But not necessarily all?"

"Not necessarily."

Sharon looked down.

"My attorney is good, but she doesn’t have the resources his legal team has. Every time we ask for records, there’s another delay."

Simone crossed her legs.

"And you want someone to review the financial side."

"Yes."

Sharon hesitated.

Then said the part she’d been holding back.

"I want something set aside for Mila."

Allison’s expression softened.

Sharon looked toward her daughter.

"Not for me to buy clothes. Not for a nicer apartment. Not so I can pretend I’m still living the way I used to."

Her voice grew firmer.

"For her education."

Mila slapped her toy against the floor.

Sharon smiled faintly.

"She can’t even say mama properly yet, and I’m already thinking about college."

"That’s what mothers do," Simone said.

Sharon looked back at Allison.

"Anthony lost everything because of choices he made. Mila shouldn’t have to lose her future too."

Allison nodded.

"No, she shouldn’t."

Sharon exhaled.

"I just don’t know where to start."

For once, she wasn’t embarrassed to admit it.

?

11:38 A.M. — THE MONEY

Allison opened her notebook.

Simone stared.

"Did you bring homework?"

"Research notes."

"That is somehow worse."

Allison ignored her.

"First, we need to separate three things."

Sharon listened.

"Your divorce settlement, any child support Anthony legally owes, and money that might be available for Mila through legitimate assets."

Sharon nodded.

"Okay."

"We can’t assume that because Anthony had an account, you can automatically take the money. Some assets may be frozen, some may belong to other people, and some may be subject to restitution."

"I understand."

"But your lawyer can request a proper accounting and determine what claims you and Mila have."

Sharon leaned forward.

"How?"

"Through the divorce case, and by coordinating with the attorneys handling the financial proceedings."

Simone looked at Allison.

"Listen to you."

Allison frowned.

"What?"

"You’re becoming responsible."

"Don’t spread rumors."

Sharon laughed.

Allison continued.

"I also know someone who can help us understand the financial records."

"Rachel Kim?" Simone asked.

"Yes."

Sharon looked between them.

"Who’s Rachel?"

"My financial mentor. She’s excellent at identifying what documents actually tell us."

"Would she help?"

"I can ask whether she’s available for a consultation. Your attorney should be involved so nobody accidentally complicates your case."

Sharon looked down at the folder.

"And how much would that cost?"

Allison paused.

There it was.

The question underneath everything.

Not whether help existed.

Whether Sharon could afford it.

"We can find out," Allison said. "And if the cost is a problem, we can discuss a way to cover the consultation without you owing me anything."

Sharon immediately shook her head.

"Allison—"

"Sharon."

"No more allowances."

Allison stopped.

Sharon looked directly at her.

"I’m grateful for what you did when I needed somewhere safe. I really am. But I have a job now. I pay my rent. I buy Mila’s diapers. I don’t want to go back to depending on someone."

Allison considered that.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

Sharon blinked.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"You’re not going to argue?"

"No."

Simone raised her eyebrows.

"Growth."

Allison pointed at her.

"Behave."

Then she turned back to Sharon.

"We can ask about free or reduced-cost legal resources first. And if you want professional help, you get to choose who provides it."

Sharon stared at her.

For a moment, she looked close to tears.

Instead, she picked up her coffee.

"Fine."

Allison smiled.

"Fine."

?

12:14 P.M. — A VERY SMALL INTERRUPTER

Mila began crying halfway through their discussion.

Sharon stood immediately.

"She’s hungry."

Simone lifted the baby.

"I’ve got her."

Sharon froze.

Simone froze.

Mila stared at both women.

Allison slowly raised her hand.

"Should I be concerned?"

Simone looked down.

"Why is she staring at me like that?"

Sharon smiled.

"She’s deciding whether you’re acceptable."

"That’s rude."

"She gets it from me."

Mila grabbed Simone’s necklace.

Simone gasped.

"Excuse me!"

Allison burst out laughing.

"She’s robbing you!"

"Sharon, your daughter is committing crimes."

Sharon calmly prepared a bottle.

"She’s six months old."

"Crime has no age limit."

Allison laughed so hard she nearly dropped her notebook.

Mila squealed.

Simone stared at her.

"Oh, you think this is funny?"

The baby smiled.

Simone sighed.

"Fine. You’re adorable. Charges dismissed."

Sharon returned with the bottle.

Watching Simone settle onto the couch with Mila, she felt something unexpected.

Comfort.

Not because they were pretending the past hadn’t happened.

Because nobody was asking her to explain it.

They were simply there.

And her daughter was happy.

?

1:03 P.M. — A PHONE CALL

With Sharon’s permission, Allison called Claire Donovan.

Claire answered from her office.

"Allison?"

"Hi. I have a question about a family-law matter."

A pause.

"Is this about your own marriage?"

Allison looked at Lucian’s contact photo on her screen.

"No."

"Good. I was about to have several questions."

Allison laughed.

She explained the situation without sharing unnecessary private details.

Claire listened.

Then answered carefully.

"Sharon’s divorce attorney needs to remain the lead. If assets are restrained, the attorney can determine whether she needs to file a claim or request information through the appropriate court process."

"What about Mila?"

"Child support and marital-property rights are separate issues. The attorney should review both."

"Could Anthony’s remaining legitimate money be used for an education fund?"

"Potentially, but it depends on the ownership of the assets, court orders, restitution claims, and what the divorce court approves."

Allison nodded.

"So no promises."

"Exactly."

Claire paused.

"I can provide names of family-law attorneys with experience handling complex financial cases. Sharon can decide whether she wants a second opinion."

"That would help."

"And Allison?"

"Yes?"

"Don’t negotiate with Anthony’s lawyers yourself."

Allison made a face.

"I wasn’t planning to."

"Good."

Simone leaned toward the phone.

"She was thinking about it."

"I was not!"

Claire sighed.

"Simone, please keep her occupied."

"With pleasure."

The call ended.

Allison glared at her best friend.

"Traitor."

Simone smiled.

"Professionally."

Sharon laughed.

And for the first time since opening the settlement packet, the problem felt manageable.

Not solved.

But manageable.

?

2:26 P.M. — SHARON’S APARTMENT

SHARON’S POV

After lunch, Mila finally fell asleep.

Simone had stepped onto the balcony to answer a call from Theo.

Allison helped Sharon clear the table.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Sharon asked, "Can I tell you something?"

Allison looked over.

"Of course."

"I used to think you wanted everything I had."

Allison paused.

Sharon laughed softly.

"I know. Ridiculous."

"I wouldn’t say ridiculous."

"I would."

She rinsed a cup.

"I thought Anthony was the prize. And because he kept comparing us, I thought winning meant making sure you lost."

Allison leaned against the counter.

Sharon continued.

"Then I married him."

She smiled without humor.

"And I spent most of my marriage trying to convince myself I’d won."

Allison said nothing.

Sharon appreciated that.

"I don’t regret Mila."

"You shouldn’t."

"I regret a lot of other things."

Allison nodded.

"That’s fair."

Sharon looked at her.

"Do you ever think about him?"

"Anthony?"

"Yes."

Allison considered.

"Not much."

Sharon almost laughed.

"Really?"

"Really."

"After everything?"

Allison shrugged.

"I have other things to think about."

Sharon stared.

Then laughed.

"Of course you do."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Allison smiled.

Sharon leaned against the counter beside her.

"I don’t want him back."

"I know."

"I don’t even want him to suffer for my sake anymore."

Allison turned toward her.

"I just want the divorce finished. I want Mila protected. And I want to go to work without somebody calling me Mrs. Morrison like it’s the only interesting thing about me."

Allison smiled.

"Then maybe it’s time to think about what name you want to use."

Sharon looked thoughtful.

"I’ve considered going back to Vale."

"Sharon Vale."

"Sounds strange now."

"Sounds like yours."

Sharon looked at her.

Then smiled.

"Maybe."

A comfortable silence settled.

Then Sharon added, "I’m still not naming you Mila’s godmother."

Allison gasped.

"I didn’t ask!"

"You were thinking about it."

"Simone is a terrible influence on you."

From the balcony came Simone’s voice.

"I HEARD THAT!"

Both women burst out laughing.

?

3:41 P.M. — THE NEXT STEP

Before leaving, Allison helped Sharon organize the documents into a single folder.

Divorce filings.

Anthony’s proposed settlement.

Records of accounts Sharon knew existed.

Mila’s birth certificate.

Correspondence from the attorneys.

Nothing dramatic.

Just paperwork.

Sharon placed the folder on the table.

"So what happens now?"

"Your attorney reviews the settlement with the additional financial questions," Allison said. "If you want a second opinion, Claire will send you some options."

"And Rachel?"

"I’ll ask if she’s available to help explain the account records once your attorney says it’s appropriate."

Sharon nodded.

"No promises about money?"

"No promises."

"But we try."

"We make sure your lawyer has what she needs to pursue your lawful claims."

Sharon smiled.

"That sounds very grown-up."

"I’ve been practicing."

Simone appeared with her handbag.

"Are we done being responsible? Because I’m hungry again."

Allison stared.

"We ate two hours ago."

"And?"

Sharon laughed.

"There’s leftover pasta."

Simone turned.

"Sharon, I take back every negative thought I’ve ever had about you."

"That seems unlikely."

"Fine. Most of them."

Allison shook her head.

They stayed another half hour.

And when they finally left, Sharon walked them to the door.

Allison hugged her.

Sharon hesitated.

Then hugged her back.

It was brief.

A little awkward.

But real.

"Thank you," Sharon whispered.

Allison smiled.

"You’re welcome."

Simone opened her arms.

"My turn."

Sharon sighed.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

Sharon hugged her.

Simone squeezed.

"You’re welcome, bestie."

"We are not best friends."

"Yet."

Sharon shut the door before Simone could say anything else.

But she was smiling.

?

MONDAY

10:18 A.M. — FAMILY LAW OFFICE

SHARON’S POV

Four days later, Sharon sat across from her attorney, Dana Mitchell.

The settlement papers lay between them.

Dana had reviewed the new financial questions Sharon brought in.

She looked up.

"I’m glad you didn’t sign."

Sharon’s stomach tightened.

"Why?"

"Because the proposal treats several disputed assets as unavailable without giving us enough information to evaluate that claim."

Sharon leaned forward.

"So they’re hiding money?"

"Not necessarily. Some restrictions may be legitimate. But we need the records before you agree to the division."

Sharon nodded.

That distinction mattered.

"What about Mila?"

Dana opened another document.

"We’re requesting updated financial disclosures relevant to support. We’ll also examine whether any marital assets can lawfully be allocated for her benefit."

"An education fund?"

"That’s one possibility we can propose. But first we establish what is available."

Sharon looked down at her hands.

For months, she’d felt as though every financial decision depended on Anthony.

His accounts.

His lawyers.

His problems.

Now she was sitting with her own attorney, asking her own questions.

"How long?"

"I can’t promise a date. But we’re moving forward."

Sharon nodded.

Dana slid the unsigned settlement back toward her.

"You did the right thing by asking for a review."

Sharon picked it up.

For once, she didn’t feel ashamed that she needed help understanding something.

She felt relieved that she’d asked.

?

MONDAY

12:37 P.M. — HARTWELL COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT

Sharon returned to work after her appointment.

Denise looked up as she entered.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. The Whitaker grant committee approved our revised proposal."

Sharon stopped.

"They did?"

"Full amount."

Sharon smiled.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Denise handed her the approval.

"And they specifically mentioned the corrected participation projections."

Sharon stared at the document.

Her work.

Her numbers.

Her contribution.

Something she’d accomplished without Anthony’s name opening a door.

Denise smiled.

"Good job."

Sharon looked up.

"Thank you."

She returned to her desk and placed the approval letter beside a photograph of Mila.

Then she opened a new document.

MILA — EDUCATION SAVINGS PLAN

She wasn’t going to wait for Anthony’s case to finish before beginning.

Even if she could only contribute a small amount each month, she could start planning with money she’d earned herself.

Any lawful funds recovered later would help.

But Mila’s future wouldn’t depend entirely on winning a fight with Anthony.

Sharon smiled at her daughter’s photograph.

"One step at a time, baby."

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Malcolm.

How’s your Monday?

Sharon typed:

Busy. Productive. Mildly annoying.

He replied:

So a normal Monday?

She laughed.

Exactly.

Then another message arrived.

Dinner Friday?

Sharon looked at the approval letter.

Then Mila’s photograph.

Then the unsigned settlement sitting safely in her work bag.

Her marriage was not over on paper.

But she was no longer waiting for Anthony to give her permission to live.

She typed:

Friday works.

And returned to work.

?

4:06 P.M. — CALLOWAY RESIDENCE

ALLISON’S POV

Allison was reviewing an accounting exercise when her phone buzzed.

Sharon.

My attorney is requesting the financial records. She says we have options.

Allison smiled.

She typed:

Good. One step at a time.

A second message appeared.

Also, Mila has started making a noise that sounds suspiciously like your laugh. I blame you.

Allison burst out laughing.

Lucian looked up from the other end of the couch.

"What?"

"Sharon."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

She showed him the message.

Lucian smiled.

"That poor child."

Allison gasped.

"Excuse me?"

"Two visits and she’s already developing your laugh?"

"It’s a beautiful laugh."

"It’s extremely loud."

Allison threw a cushion at him.

He caught it.

"Violence."

"Marriage."

He laughed.

She leaned against him.

For a while, they sat quietly.

Then Lucian asked, "Did Sharon get the help she needed?"

"She’s getting started."

"Good."

Allison looked down at her notebook.

She had spent so much of her life believing helping someone meant solving their problem.

Fixing it.

Paying for it.

Making the pain disappear.

But Sharon hadn’t needed Allison to take over.

She’d needed information.

A little support.

And room to make her own decisions.

Allison smiled.

"What?" Lucian asked.

"Nothing."

"That’s never true."

She looked at him.

"I think I’m finally learning how to help without trying to control the outcome."

Lucian kissed her forehead.

"That’s a useful skill."

"Very."

She looked back at her workbook.

"Now, speaking of outcomes, can you explain compound interest?"

Lucian glanced at the page.

"Again?"

"Don’t judge me."

"I’m not."

"Your eyebrows are."

He laughed.

Allison smiled and picked up her pencil.

Some people were rebuilding companies.

Some were renaming foundations.

Some were fighting for a fair divorce.

And some were learning how to make a few dollars grow into a future.

None of it happened overnight.

But it was happening.

And for once, Allison didn’t need a dramatic victory to recognize progress.