He Paid For Her Cat’s Pain, Not My Mother’s Chapter 06

He Paid For Her Cat’s Pain, Not My Mother’s Chapter 06

That evening I went to Rebecca’s office.

Rebecca flipped through what I’d brought and looked up.

“You used to work in compliance?”

I said, “I wrote the first internal-control manual for Whitmore Medical. Before Julian talked me into quitting, I was the project compliance officer.”

Rebecca nodded. “Then you know that if these materials check out, this isn’t just a divorce asset

dispute.”

I slid the flash drive across the table.

“I know.

First cease-and-desist goes to Whitmore’s board.

Second goes to the court.”

Sienna cried to the internet first.

She posted a video-holding Cotton, eyes swollen like she’d

suffered the worst injustice.

“I never thought saving a cat could make me the villain. I know losing a family member is brutal. But you can’t make someone else choose between lives just because you’re in pain.”

In the clip, they’d cut in my voice-

“So my mom is less than her cat?”

“You’re going to go save a cat right now?”

Taken out of context-like I’d demanded Julian abandon that cat.

The comments exploded.

[Late-stage cancer is hopeless anyway.]

[Pets are family too-don’t guilt-trip.]

[She’s unhinged.]

Someone dug up my office address and waited for me downstairs.

Someone else sent a DM, [Your mom dying doesn’t mean you can blame a cat.]

I stared at that message, my fingers frozen.

Then Julian sent a delivery-an insulated food jar and a box of antacids.

A note in his handwriting, [You have a bad stomach-don’t eat on empty.]

I looked at it for a long time.

For a second I flashed back to our first year of marriage-

when I had a stomach ache so bad I couldn’t stand straight, and he ran three blocks in the middle of

the night to get me medicine.

Back then he’d scowl and say, “Nora, can’t you take care of yourself?”

I opened the jar.

Plain chicken broth. No herbs-nothing I couldn’t eat.

My phone buzzed.

Sienna had messaged me, [Nora, I reminded Julian to send the soup. He’s so oblivious-don’t be too hard on him.]

Then a screenshot, [Sienna added an extra order-deliver some broth to Mrs. Whitmore on the way so

she won’t make a scene.]

I stared at those lines and laughed.

So even this last-minute gesture was someone else’s leftovers.

I dumped the soup in the trash.

At the mediation session, Julian brought his lawyer.

Counsel spoke smoothly, “Ms. Kelleher had no steady income for most of the marriage-her contribution to the family assets was limited.”

“The eighty thousand from her mother to Mr. Whitmore was transferred during a family relationship. It could easily be characterized as a gift.”

I listened and felt nothing but absurdity.

Julian sat across from me, his face tight.

He whispered, “That’s not my argument.”

I looked at him. “Whose is it then?”

He didn’t answer.

I pulled out my first piece of evidence.