Chapter 8 - The Secret Inbox
Later that evening, I was cleaning out the massive hall closet.
I was systematically bagging up the last of Mark’s cheap golf clothes to throw in the garage.
My hand brushed against a familiar black leather case hidden on the top shelf.
It was Mark’s old backup iPad, the one he thought had completely broken last year.
I pulled it down and plugged it directly into the wall charger in the kitchen.
To my complete surprise, the screen slowly flickered to life.
He had simply forgotten to charge it and abandoned it like a useless toy.
The device was incredibly slow, but it automatically connected to our home WiFi network.
I clicked on his personal email application without a single ounce of guilt.
My heart began to pound a heavy, frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Right there in his sent folder were dozens of recent, highly secretive emails.
They were all addressed to the admissions director of a highly aggressive military boarding school in Montana.
I clicked on the most recent email, dated just two weeks ago.
"My stepson Dustin is completely out of control," Mark’s digital message read.
"My wife is totally blind to his severe behavioral issues."
"I need to enroll him in your absolute strictest year-round discipline program."
"I will have full financial control of her estate by next month to pay the tuition in full."
A hot, blinding wave of nausea washed over my stomach.
He was actively lying to strangers, painting my sweet, quiet boy as a monster.
He was doing all of this just to get Dustin physically out of the house.
He wanted to throw my innocent seven-year-old into a harsh military camp just so his awful mother could have a spare bedroom.
Tears of pure, unadulterated fury pricked the corners of my eyes.
I didn't just want to simply divorce this cruel, evil man anymore.
I wanted to utterly and completely destroy his entire existence.
I quickly forwarded every single horrible email directly to Diane's private secure inbox.
"Add this to the absolute top of the pile," I texted her immediately.
"I want full, permanent, unyielding sole custody."
"He will never be allowed within five hundred feet of my son ever again."
May you like
Diane replied less than thirty seconds later.
"Consider him completely buried, Sarah."
