He Terminated My Lease So I Terminated Our Wedding Chapter 17
On the day of the protective order hearing, Owen wore the same suit he had proposed in.
He had no lawyer. The only thing on his table was the photo of the island.
When the judge asked why he had sent a private recording to the project committee, he lowered his head and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“I was worried she’d have another breakdown and make a bad decision. I used to be the one who helped calm her down.”
“Including terminating her lease on her behalf?”
My lawyer placed the landlord’s email on the evidence stand.
Owen paused.
“We were getting married.”
“Including transferring seventy-four thousand dollars out of your joint account?”
The bank records followed.
“I returned the money the next day.”
“Including taking her phone, coat, wallet, and car keys and leaving her on an island cut off by the tide?”
Owen’s lips moved.
“That wasn’t my decision alone.”
From the back of the courtroom came the scrape of a chair.
Cass stood up.
She had been subpoenaed but had stayed huddled in the last row. Hearing that, she rushed forward.
“He told me to take her bag!” she cried. “He said once Lila had no way out, she’d do what she always did and listen to him!”
The bailiff blocked her path.
The judge warned her to be seated and answer only when questioned.
Cass wiped at her tears and blurted on anyway.
“I drove the boat, but Owen was the one who pushed her off. He knew she’d been locked in a closet before, that she was terrified of places with no exit. He said once she’d cried enough, we’d go back for her.”
Owen shot to his feet.
“You were the one betting she wouldn’t last two hours! You were the one who ripped off her coat!”
“You liked the post!”
“You posted the picture!”
“You started the bet!”
The judge’s gavel cracked down sharply.
They finally fell silent, though they continued to glare at each other.
My lawyer didn’t ask who was worse. She simply submitted the full Discord record.
From the childhood photos of me crying, to the restaurant cancellation, the lease termination, the house money, and finally, the island bet.
After every “joke” were their names, their timestamps, and their payment screenshots.
Owen stared at the pages, then suddenly turned to me.
“Lila, you saved all of this. You were planning this from the beginning, weren’t you?”
For the first time in that courtroom, I spoke.
“When I backed this up, you were betting on when I’d notice the money was gone.”
His mouth stayed open, but no words came out.
The judge granted the protective order.
Owen and Cass were prohibited from approaching my home, my firm, or my project sites, and from contacting me directly or through third parties.
Then the judge looked down at the testimony they had just given.
“The sworn statements made today regarding the incident in Maine, together with the existing record, will be referred to the local prosecutor’s office for review.”
Cass’s crying stopped short.
And the threadbare remorse on Owen’s face turned, finally, to fear.