My Wedding Dress In The Garage His Widow In My Home Chapter 22
The temporary injunction hearing was set for two weeks later.
Paige’s lawyer requested mediation first.
In the mediation room, Paige wore a plain dress and had a framed photo of Sadie on the table beside her. When she saw me walk in, she instinctively touched the hair on the right side of her head.
“I never meant to destroy your career,” she said. “I was just scared.”
I sat down beside my lawyer.
“You tagged my company in your post.”
“Because you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
Paige’s eyes reddened almost instantly.
“You already have a new apartment, a new job, and so many people supporting you. All I have is Sadie. Why do you have to drag me into court?”
My lawyer slid a file folder to the center of the table.
“Ms. Reed, you were the one who made public accusations. My client gave you twenty-four hours to correct them before filing suit. You chose instead to post a second video and continue to name her employer.”
Paige looked at me.
“Was everything I said false? Didn’t you cancel the house? Didn’t you take the money? Didn’t you make Owen ship all our things back?”
“The house never closed,” I said flatly. “And my money was never yours.”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
My lawyer opened the first document.
The bank records, showing that $4,800 from our joint account had gone directly to her landlord.
The second document was the one-dollar lease, naming her as the tenant.
The third was the iMessage thread between her and Owen.
The fourth was the doorbell video, paused at 11:07 p.m.
Finally, my lawyer pulled up screenshots from Paige’s own Instagram. In one photo, Owen was buckling her seatbelt while she called him *my knight*. The timestamp was from just after he had hung up on me.
“All of this was backed up to the cloud before your posts were made,” my lawyer said. “The escrow company, the bank, and the security platform can all verify the timestamps. If you insist on going to court, these will be submitted as evidence.”
When Paige saw the still image of the kiss, her face finally changed.
“That’s private.”
“That’s footage from the security camera at the address where I was living,” I said. “You chose to kiss him there.”
“But Owen is at fault, too! He signed the lease, he sent the text—why are you only suing me?”
“Because you’re the one who publicly lied about me and harassed my employer.”
She whipped around to face her own lawyer.
“She’s just doing this to get back at me! Owen did all of those things, and she’s only coming after me!”
Her lawyer lowered his voice. “Paige, please calm down.”
“How am I supposed to calm down? Owen was the one who said he’d take care of us! He was the one who let me choose the rooms! He was the one who told me Nora would give in eventually!”
The moment the words left her mouth, she froze.
The mediator looked at her, his pen hovering over the page.
I didn’t need to ask another question.
She had just admitted, in her own words, that she knew I had never agreed to their plan.
After a short recess, the other side proposed terms.
Delete all related content. Issue a public clarification. Pay my legal fees. Sign a permanent no-contact agreement. The fees could be paid in installments, but if a single payment was late, the agreement would go straight to enforcement.
Paige clenched her jaw. “And if I don’t sign?”
My lawyer closed the folder.
“Then we’ll see you in court.”
She looked at me with the same expression she always had—waiting for me to soften, waiting for me to lower the price for her.
I picked up my coat.
“See you next week.”
Just as I reached the door, I heard her voice behind me.
“Wait.”