My Husband Divorced Me By Email While I WAS PREGNANT & Emptied Our Joint Account, But I…

“He told her the baby died?” I asked Mallory, stunned.

“Even after everything. He told her lots of things, all documented, all criminal. The FBI agent actually whistled when she saw the fake death certificate. Said that’s a whole different level of federal crime.”

The credit card companies, once they learned about the fraud, froze everything. Bradley, who’d been living on credit for months, suddenly had no access to money.

The $47,000 he’d stolen was gone in two weeks to bills, Tiffany, and trying to maintain an image he couldn’t afford. His Mercedes was repossessed Tuesday afternoon.

He’d missed three payments, juggling money so poorly even his car gave up on him.

The repo man, according to Patricia, who’d accidentally been driving by—she’d been stalking him—was very efficient.

“Bradley tried to negotiate,” She said. “Offered the repo guy his watch. It was fake. The repo guy actually laughed.”

Wednesday brought the country club; his membership, three months overdue, was revoked. The golf club followed Thursday.

By Friday, his CrossFit gym had banned him for non-payment and creating a hostile environment after Tiffany’s tell-all Instagram Live session. She really went scorched earth.

Diane showed me the recorded Live. Tiffany, in tears, explaining how Bradley had manipulated her, lied to her, used her credit cards when his got declined.

She even showed receipts, literally held them up to the camera. The comments were brutal but deserved.

“Girl, you thought you won a prize and got a penalty. Imagine fumbling a pregnant wife for this. The way karma doesn’t miss.”

The FBI investigation had expanded. Turns out forging psychiatric documents and death certificates crossed even more federal lines than insurance fraud.

Agent Martinez, who contacted me Friday afternoon, seemed almost impressed.

“In 20 years, I’ve rarely seen someone commit this many federal crimes for this little money,” She said. “Usually people who forge death certificates are running million-dollar schemes. Your ex did it for what? A mediocre house and a girlfriend who can’t do basic math. Almost impressive.”

“Well, it would be impressive if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

“We’re adding mail fraud, wire fraud, forgery of government documents, and conspiracy charges. He’s looking at serious time.”

Bradley’s family was fracturing. His father, Richard, who’d initially defended him, changed his tune when Patricia showed him the journal entries from 30 years ago.

“My God,” Richard said, visiting me and Harper at home; we’d finally been released. “He really is just like I was, except dumber. I at least had the sense not to commit federal crimes.”

“That’s a low bar, Richard.”

“Yet Bradley limboed right under it.”

The asset recovery was swift. The prenup’s infidelity clause was ironclad, and with Tiffany’s testimony and evidence, Bradley couldn’t deny it.

His 401k was liquidated, $75,000; the fake Rolex collection he thought I didn’t know about, $8,000—fake, but he’d paid real money for them; the boat registered under his brother’s name, $25,000.

His parents, horrified and trying to make amends, offered $30,000 to cover the rest.

“We’ll pay it,” Patricia insisted. “Then he’ll owe us, with interest. Compound interest—the kind that doubles every year.”

Even Bradley’s brother Steven, who’d always enabled him, was done.

“He asked me to lie about the boat ownership. Said you were trying to steal his assets. I actually felt sorry for him. And now? Now I’m changing my last name. I don’t want to be associated with this level of stupid.”

The courtroom looked like a Law & Order episode where they couldn’t afford enough extras for the gallery. Our side: Mallory, Patricia, Richard, Diane, Roger, three character witnesses, and a forensic accounting team.

Bradley’s side: a public defender named Carl who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, including prison himself.

Bradley showed up wearing the rental suit from our wedding; apparently, he’d kept it all these years, forgetting to return it, and now it was the only suit he had.

It was too tight from all that CrossFit, making him look like a sausage that had dreams of being formal wear.

Judge Harrison—no relation to Bradley’s golf buddy—reviewed the case file with expressions ranging from disbelief to disgust to what I swear was suppressed laughter.

“Mr. Fischer,” She began. “In my 30 years on the bench, I’ve seen some spectacular failures of judgment. You’ve managed to surpass them all. You’ve committed crimes I didn’t know existed.”

Bradley tried to maintain dignity. It was like watching a wet paper towel pretend to be cloth.

The evidence presentation was methodical destruction. Mallory started with abandonment: leaving a pregnant wife in ICU with complications.

Then theft, the $47,000 plus everything since; insurance fraud, the forged documents, the false dates; wire fraud, crossing state lines; mail fraud, using USPS for fraudulent documents.

Embezzlement, $67,000 from his employer; identity theft, forging my signature; false documents, the psychiatric holds and death certificate.

“Your Honor,” Mallory said. “Mr. Fischer didn’t just burn bridges; he committed arson across three states and federal jurisdiction. He created a how-to guide for destroying your own life.”

Carl, the public defender, tried weakly. “Your Honor, my client was experiencing a midlife crisis at 34.”

Judge Harrison interrupted. “An early midlife crisis? The pressure of impending fatherhood that he begged his wife for, according to these text messages where he promised—and I quote—’I’ll be the best father ever, babe. Nothing matters more than our family’.”

Carl looked at Bradley with pure exhaustion. “The defense rests.”

“Already? You’re not going to mount any actual defense?”

“Your Honor, what would you like me to say? That forging a death certificate for an unborn child is somehow defensible? I went to law school, not clown college.”

Even Bradley’s lawyer had given up on him. Tiffany testified via video link, now living with her parents in Ohio.

She’d brought receipts, literally every text, every false document, every lie Bradley had told.

“He said she was crazy,” Tiffany testified, mascara running. “Said she tried to kill the baby. Said he was protecting his future child by leaving. He showed me fake hospital commitment papers while she was hospitalized trying to keep that child alive.”

Judge Harrison clarified: “I… I was stupid. I’m 22, and I was stupid, and I thought he loved me.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing: you were spectacularly stupid.”

Even Tiffany’s lawyer winced at that. The financial forensics were presented in excruciating detail.

Every falsified expense, every stolen penny, every lie documented in color-coded spreadsheets that Roger had designed specifically to be so simple even Bradley could understand them.

Bradley tried to speak in his defense. It went poorly.

“Your Honor, I was trapped in a loveless marriage…”

“That you begged for,” Judge Harrison referenced our text history.

Mallory had submitted these: “Messages show you texting your wife ‘I love you’ the morning you filed for divorce.”

“Caitlyn was controlling.”

“The woman who let you manage all the finances until you stole everything?”

“I never meant for…”

“For what? The federal crimes? The abandonment? The theft? The forgery? The fraud? Be specific, Mr. Fischer. You never meant for which of your many crimes?”

“This is persecution!”

“No, Mr. Fischer, this is prosecution. Learn the difference.”

Patricia testified about the patterns between Bradley and his father.

“I failed to break the cycle, Your Honor, but Caitlyn won’t. She’s stronger than I was.”

Richard followed, condemning his own son.

“I was a terrible husband 30 years ago. Bradley watched and learned the wrong lessons. But these crimes, this cruelty—this is all him.”

The judge’s decision was swift and brutal. Divorce granted immediately.

All marital assets to me, including the house, since my inheritance paid the down payment. The prenup’s infidelity clause enforced: $200,000 to be paid through asset liquidation and wage garnishment.

Full custody of Harper to me; supervised visitation only for Bradley if and when he could afford it from prison—unlikely.

“As for the criminal charges,” Judge Harrison continued. “This court recommends maximum sentences for all state charges. Federal charges will be addressed separately, but I’m recommending no leniency.”

The federal charges were worse: wire fraud, mail fraud, insurance fraud, forgery, false documents—each carrying potential years.