He Put His Ex First So I Found My True Mate Chapter 20
The next morning, I opened the drive in my attorney’s office.
Every file was still there.
The marked envelope designs. The betting sheet on when I would lose control. Three months of chat logs between all six of them. The private screenshot where Graham agreed to cancel our ceremony for Blair.
My attorney read through everything slowly.
When he reached George’s line—*Who cares? It’s going on Mara’s card*—he looked up and asked, “Some of the Tidewatch Coast expenses still haven’t been repaid, correct?”
I nodded.
After the reimbursement notices went out, all six of them had claimed they needed time to review the itemized charges.
Some paid only the portions they felt were their responsibility.
Some insisted it had been my gift to my “future pack family.”
Over the next two years, my attorney sent three separate follow-ups.
They were still betting that I wouldn’t bother taking a twelve-thousand-dollar bill to formal territorial arbitration.
And I hadn’t pushed it further.
Not because they didn’t owe it.
At the time, all I wanted was to be rid of them. Even seeing their names on official paperwork was exhausting.
My attorney pointed to the chat logs.
“These can’t replace a formal payment agreement, but they are enough to defeat any claim that the expenses were gifts. They knew you were fronting the money, and they discussed in advance how you’d be the one left paying in the end.”
Then he opened the betting sheet.
“More importantly, they’ve all been claiming the event was an impulsive joke. This proves they were lying.”
I asked, “Can any of this help with the protective order?”
“The protective order will rest mainly on last night’s assault, Daniel’s testimony, your injury photos, and the patrol record from the apartment building two years ago.”
He closed the laptop.
“These files don’t prove what happened last night. But they do show a long pattern of Graham ignoring your boundaries.”
I looked at my name on that betting sheet.
“Then we handle them separately.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever belongs with territorial patrol and the protective order hearing goes there.”
“And whatever belongs in civil arbitration goes to civil arbitration.”
I wasn’t going to post those chat logs on social media.
I had no intention of projecting them onto a wall in some pack banquet hall, either.
What they had most wanted back then was to see me break down, to sob and lash out so they could blame me for not controlling my wolf.
I didn’t need to perform for anyone.
My attorney took out two sets of papers.
One was the application for the territorial protective order.
The other was the arbitration filing to recover the remaining unpaid balance.
I signed the last page of each.
The pen didn’t shake in my hand.
“File everything.”