Chapter 3 - MADISON NEEDED MY ADDRESS MORE THAN MY BEDROOM
Madison left the table first.
I followed her upstairs.
Not because I suddenly trusted her.
Because fear had replaced the smirk she wore the night Eric told me to watch my mouth.
She sat on the guest-room bed surrounded by baby clothes.
“What is going on?”
She covered her face.
“I’m in a custody dispute.”
My anger paused.
“What?”
The baby’s father, Caleb Ross, had ended their relationship five months earlier.
Madison had stopped paying rent after leaving her job during pregnancy.
Her lease expired.
Caleb’s attorney argued that she lacked stable long-term housing.
“So you needed an address.”
She nodded.
“Mom said Eric offered.”
“Eric offered my house.”
Madison looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Did anyone tell the court this was your permanent residence?”
Silence.
My stomach tightened.
“Madison.”
“There was a form.”
“What form?”
She opened a drawer.
Inside was a photocopy.
RESIDENTIAL STABILITY DECLARATION.
It stated that Madison could remain at my property for at least twelve months after the birth.
Owner consent:
My name.
Signature:
Also supposedly mine.
I stared at it.
“I never signed this.”
Madison began crying harder.
“Eric said you had.”
There it was again.
Not misunderstanding.
Not assumption.
Forgery.
“Who gave you this?”
“Mom.”
“And you submitted it?”
“My attorney did.”
I photographed every page.
Then I asked:
“Does Eric know it’s forged?”
Madison looked away.
That was enough.
I left without shouting.
Inside my office, I sent everything to Laura.
Her reply came less than five minutes later.
DO NOT CONFRONT THEM FURTHER. WE NEED COPIES OF EVERYTHING.
Then another email appeared.
Not from Laura.
My employer.
For six months, I had been discussing a possible transfer to our London office.
Vice President of European Compliance.
A promotion.
A forty-percent salary increase.
Housing allowance for the first year.
I had turned it down twice because Eric said moving would “wreck his career.”
The offer had been reopened.
They needed an answer by Friday.
I stared at the screen.
Downstairs, I heard Diane laughing.
Eric returned home and asked whether Madison had shown me “anything stupid.”
He was nervous.
For three years, I had adjusted my career around his comfort.
For three weeks, his family had taken over the home I purchased before I knew him.
Now my company was offering me another continent.
I clicked:
ACCEPT.
Then I called Laura.
“Can the house close before I leave?”
She answered:
“If the buyer’s inspection goes clean, yes.”
I looked around my office.
“Then make it happen.”
May you like
For the first time, England no longer felt like escape.
It felt like a door.
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