Chapter 5 - The Man Who Tried to Steal My Children’s StoryThe next morning, a photograph of my sons appeared on social media.
It was taken at the baby shower.
Noah stood beside my chair.
Eli held onto my skirt.
Preston was visible in the background, looking toward us.
The caption came from a local society page that frequently covered business families and charity events.
A SURPRISE AT THE HOLLOWAY BABY SHOWER: FAMILY SECRETS REVEALED AS BUSINESSMAN'S EX-WIFE ARRIVES WITH TWIN BOYS.
I felt my stomach turn.
I hadn't given anyone permission to publish a picture of my children.
The twins weren't public figures.
They were two little boys who loved toy trains, bedtime stories, and putting stickers on the dog.
They had no reason to become part of Preston's reputation management.
I called the page administrator.
I explained that my children were minors and asked for the picture to be removed.
The woman apologized.
She said the image had been submitted by someone connected to the event.
Within an hour, the photograph disappeared.
But the damage had already begun.
Screenshots were spreading.
People were asking whether Preston had abandoned children from his first marriage.
Others wondered whether I'd been dishonest about infertility.
Some suggested that the twins looked like him.
They didn't.
But people love a scandal more than they love the truth.
At eleven that morning, Preston called.
I let it go to voicemail.
He called again.
And again.
Then he sent a message.
Preston: We need to talk about those boys.
I forwarded it to Rebecca.
A minute later, he sent another.
Preston: Everyone thinks they're mine. You need to clear this up.
I typed a response, then deleted it.
Rebecca had advised me to keep communication brief and documented.
I finally wrote:
Audrey: My sons are not your children. Do not contact or photograph them. Any further communication should go through my attorney.
His reply arrived almost immediately.
Preston: Don't act like you're better than me. I know what you're doing.
I stared at the message.
For years, Preston had been able to control a conversation simply by changing the subject.
When I asked about his behavior, he questioned my motives.
When I asked about his lies, he accused me of being emotional.
When I tried to leave, he made me defend the decision to protect myself.
I wasn't doing that anymore.
I put down the phone.
Then I went outside and helped Eli search for a plastic dinosaur he'd buried beneath our azalea bushes.
Two days later, Preston appeared outside the preschool.
I had just finished signing the boys out when I noticed a familiar dark SUV near the curb.
My chest tightened.
Preston stepped out.
He wore an expensive gray suit.
His hair was neatly combed.
He looked as though he'd come straight from a business meeting.
“Audrey.”
I stopped.
Noah and Eli stood beside me, holding their backpacks.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need five minutes.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the boys.
“Can we have an adult conversation?”
“Not here.”
“Audrey, people are talking.”
“Then tell them to stop.”
He lowered his voice.
“You think this makes me look bad?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Showing up at my mother's house with two little boys after everything that happened between us.”
I almost laughed.
“You invited me to that party, Preston. And my sister brought my children because our pickup plans got mixed up.”
“Don't play innocent.”
“I'm not playing anything.”
He looked toward Noah.
“Are they really from a donor?”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“That's private.”
“So that's a yes.”
I stepped closer, keeping my voice low.
“You don't have the right to question my children about how they were conceived.”
He folded his arms.
“People think they're mine.”
“Then tell them they're not.”
He stared at me.
Something shifted in his expression.
Suddenly, he smiled.
“You know, maybe there's a way to turn this into something positive.”
My skin prickled.
“What are you talking about?”
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
“The family foundation has an event coming up. We could make a public statement about moving forward.”
“No.”
“You haven't heard the idea.”
“I don't need to.”
“Audrey, you're being difficult.”
I felt an old reflex rise inside me.
The urge to explain.
To soften my answer.
To apologize for causing conflict.
Then Eli tugged on my sleeve.
“Mommy, can we go home?”
I looked down.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Preston sighed.
“At least think about it.”
“No.”
I took the boys toward the parking lot.
He followed several steps behind.
“Your boys could benefit from being connected to the Holloway family.”
I stopped.
Then I turned.
“They already have a family.”
Preston gave me a cold look.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do. And that's why the answer is no.”
That evening, Rebecca called after reviewing the messages and hearing what had happened at the preschool.
“Document everything,” she said. “Dates, times, witnesses, security footage if the school has it.”
“Do you think he'll keep coming?”
“I can't know. But if he returns after being told to stay away, we'll discuss appropriate protective steps.”
I looked out at the backyard.
Noah and Eli were sitting with my neighbor, Owen Blake, who had come over to repair a loose board on our deck.
Owen lived two houses down.
He was forty-one, a carpenter who ran a small custom furniture business.
We had met shortly after I'd moved into the neighborhood.
He had helped me assemble two cribs when I was eight months pregnant and too stubborn to admit I couldn't do it alone.
He never made a big production out of helping.
He simply showed up when he said he would.
And over the last year, our friendship had slowly become something I was afraid to name.
“Audrey?” Rebecca asked.
“Sorry. I'm listening.”
“I'm also preparing a preservation letter concerning the financial documents. Cynthia has agreed to provide records.”
I felt a small rush of relief.
“Really?”
“Yes. She authorized the trust's accountant to cooperate with an independent review.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, Cynthia was doing more than apologizing.
She was helping uncover the truth.
Owen knocked on the kitchen door just after sunset.
I opened it.
He stood on the porch carrying a small wooden dinosaur.
“Found this under your deck.”
I smiled.
“That's Eli's favorite.”
“I figured. He gave me a very detailed description of its missing tail.”
I laughed.
Owen handed it to me.
Then his expression changed.
“You okay?”
I hesitated.
He glanced toward the living room.
“Tess told me somebody's been bothering you.”
I leaned against the doorframe.
“My ex-husband.”
Owen nodded.
“Want to talk about it?”
I looked at him.
He didn't press.
He didn't demand details.
He simply waited.
And something about that made my throat tighten.
“It's complicated.”
“Most things worth talking about are.”
I smiled faintly.
“Did you learn that from a fortune cookie?”
“No. From my divorce.”
I laughed.
Owen had been divorced for six years.
He had a good relationship with his former wife, who had moved to Asheville with her new husband.
Their seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, spent school breaks with him.
I'd met Maya several times.
She was funny, thoughtful, and adored the twins.
Owen looked toward the driveway.
“If your ex shows up here and you need someone to witness what happens, call me.”
I studied his face.
“I don't need someone to fight him.”
“I wasn't offering to fight him.”
“What were you offering?”
“To stand beside you while you handle it.”
The simplicity of the answer nearly undid me.
For seven years, I'd been married to a man who wanted me to need him.
Owen seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea that I could take care of myself.
He just didn't think I should have to do everything alone.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He smiled.
“Anytime.”
The following afternoon, Brielle called.
Her voice sounded strange.
“Audrey, I need to tell you something before Preston does.”
I sat down.
“What happened?”
“He found out I've been talking to you.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“He looked through my phone while I was sleeping.”
I closed my eyes.
“Brielle…”
“I know. I should have changed the password.”
“Are you safe?”
She hesitated.
“Yes. He's at work now.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me you were trying to destroy our marriage.”
I stared at the wall.
“That's not what I'm doing.”
“I know.”
She took a shaky breath.
“He said you were working with his mother to steal money from him.”
I almost laughed.
“His mother gave him the money.”
“I know that now.”
Then her voice dropped.
“He wants me to tell people that you threatened me.”
I went very still.
“What?”
“He said if I publicly accuse you of harassing me, people will stop asking questions about the medical records.”
I felt cold.
“Brielle, don't let him use you.”
“I won't.”
She began crying.
“I believed him once. I'm not doing it again.”
I listened.
Then she said, “There's something else. I recorded part of our argument.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Recorded?”
“Yes.”
North Carolina generally permits a participant in a conversation to record it without the other participant's consent, but I wasn't about to make legal decisions based on my understanding of that rule.
“Please speak to your attorney before using it,” I said.
“I already did. She told me to preserve the original.”
Brielle had hired her own lawyer.
That was the first genuinely reassuring thing she'd said.
“What did he admit?”
She swallowed.
“I asked why he changed your medical report.”
I gripped my phone.
“And?”
“He said he had to make you stop asking questions.”
My breath caught.
“What questions?”
“About why he wouldn't get tested.”
I covered my mouth.
Brielle continued.
“He said he didn't want children then, and he knew you would leave if you found out.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Did he say anything about the money?”
“Yes.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“He said the business needed cash. He said the trust money was supposed to be his eventually anyway.”
I closed my eyes.
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
Then Brielle whispered, “Audrey, I'm sending the recording to my attorney and your lawyer. I want them to decide how it should be handled.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Noah and Eli were singing a song about farm animals.
I swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Brielle began crying again.
“I don't think I can stay married to him.”
I didn't tell her what to do.
I knew how dangerous it could be when someone else began making your decisions.
Instead, I said, “You deserve to make that choice with the truth in front of you.”
She was silent.
Then she whispered, “So did you.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, Brielle wasn't merely another woman in Preston's story.
May you like
She was someone trying to escape the same deception.
And the recording she had preserved might finally make it impossible for him to deny what he'd done.
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