Chapter 3 - THE STORY RYAN WAS BUILDING WHILE NAOMI FLEW
Naomi slept for ninety minutes.
At six the next morning, she opened Ryan’s messages from the trip.
She had read them quickly while working.
Now she read them as evidence.
Friday, 8:14 a.m.
Your mom seems really tired. Maybe having twins alone is too much for her.
Friday, 1:37 p.m.
Emma’s fussy. Your mom keeps forgetting things.
Friday, 7:52 p.m.
Mom came over to help because Margaret couldn’t handle dinner.
Saturday, 10:11 a.m.
Honestly, I think your plan to rely on your mother is unrealistic.
Saturday, 5:40 p.m.
We should probably talk about whether Vivian needs to take a bigger role once you’re home.
Naomi stared.
Her plan.
Ryan had never been told the full plan.
But apparently he knew enough.
Margaret came into the mansion kitchen wearing borrowed sweatpants.
Naomi turned the phone toward her.
“Were you forgetting things?”
Margaret frowned.
“No.”
“Did you ask Vivian for help?”
“No.”
“Why was she there?”
“Ryan invited her.”
That was the first inconsistency.
Ryan had presented Vivian as emergency backup.
Margaret said Vivian arrived Friday morning with a suitcase.
Not groceries.
Not medicine.
A suitcase.
“She said Ryan asked her to stay until you got home.”
Naomi’s jaw tightened.
“What happened Friday?”
At first, almost nothing.
Ryan left for what he called a client lunch.
Vivian told Margaret Naomi’s house was “run badly.”
She reorganized cabinets.
Criticized the children’s lunches.
Said Oliver needed stricter discipline.
When Margaret developed chills that afternoon, Vivian refused to let her lie down.
“She said I was using illness to make you feel guilty.”
“What did Ryan say?”
Margaret looked away.
“He said maybe she had a point.”
The bruise on Margaret’s cheek happened Saturday morning.
Emma was feverish.
Margaret was carrying her toward the downstairs bedroom when Vivian demanded she return to the kitchen and clean breakfast dishes.
Margaret refused.
Vivian pushed past her.
Margaret lost balance and hit the wall.
Ryan witnessed the aftermath.
“What did he do?”
“He asked whether Emma was hurt.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
Not Margaret.
Emma.
“What about your arm?”
“Last night.”
Vivian grabbed her when she stopped cooking.
Ryan was in the living room.
Exactly where Naomi found him.
Naomi pulled out a notebook.
Margaret frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing it down while it’s fresh.”
That morning Naomi called a family-law attorney named Marissa Cole.
She did not ask how quickly she could destroy Ryan.
She asked what she could do safely and legally.
Marissa told her not to lock Ryan out of the marital residence without proper authority or agreement.
Naomi had not.
She had moved herself and the children.
She could revoke access to her separately owned mansion.
She could stop voluntary spending from her individual accounts.
She could document the physical incidents involving Margaret and Naomi herself.
And she could make decisions about childcare unless a court later ordered otherwise.
Naomi followed the advice.
Then she called her accountant.
“Pull every household payment Ryan has submitted during the last eighteen months.”
Her accountant hesitated.
“How far?”
“All the way.”
By noon, Naomi had her first financial surprise.
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She had known she was paying Vivian’s car.
She did not know she was paying Vivian’s mortgage too.
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