My Husband Divorced Me, Taking Even CUSTODY — He Had No Idea What He Would Face and…

The implication was clear. Regina was not just a bad supervisor; she was participating in a coordinated harassment campaign.

HR took it seriously—very seriously. Within two weeks, Regina Doyle was quietly transferred to a different department across town.

My hours were restored and my schedule stabilized. It was a small victory, but it taught me something important.

I was capable of fighting back. I was capable of winning.

Regina probably thought she was untouchable because of her fancy friends. Turns out fancy friends do not mean much when you leave a paper trail of workplace violations a mile long.

The Perjury in the Deposition

The restraining order hearing came next. Brendan’s lawyer presented me as an unstable woman who had stalked her own family on a child’s birthday.

Diana presented evidence that Brendan had been systematically denying my legal visitation rights for months. She showed that his claims of harassment were actually attempts to control and punish me for seeking access to my own children.

The judge reviewed the evidence and dismissed the restraining order petition. Brendan looked annoyed but not worried.

He still thought he was winning the war. Then came the deposition.

For those who do not know, a deposition is when lawyers ask questions under oath before a trial. Everything you say is recorded and can be used against you later.

Diana scheduled Brendan’s deposition as part of our custody modification motion. She told him it was routine—just standard procedure for any custody case.

Brendan arrived at that deposition with his expensive lawyer and his expensive suit and his absolute confidence that he had already won. His lawyer was probably billing $500 an hour to basically sit there and look expensive.

Nice work if you can get it. Diana asked gentle questions, easy questions.

She asked about his income, his assets, and his financial situation. She asked if he owned any businesses or had any business interests outside his primary employment.

“Just my salary and standard benefits,” Brendan said.

She asked if he owned any property other than the family home.

“No,” Brendan said, “just the Oceanside house.”

She asked if he had any financial relationships with family members, any payments or transfers to relatives.

“Nothing like that,” Brendan said.

Every single answer was a lie. Every single answer was perjury.

And every single answer was recorded and documented and certified. Brendan’s lawyer looked bored throughout the entire deposition.

He had not prepared because he did not think he needed to. He did not know about the hard drive.

He did not know about Beverly and Harrison. He did not know that his client had just destroyed himself under oath.

After the deposition, Diana and I reviewed the recording together. She had this look on her face like a cat who had just cornered a very fat mouse.

She told me we had him completely and totally. Now we just needed to prepare for the final battle.

Confronting the Useful Idiot

But there was one more thing I needed to do first, something personal. I went to see Paloma.

I did not go to her apartment where she might refuse to open the door. I found her at a coffee shop she frequented, a place we used to go together back when we were actually sisters.

She looked up from her phone and saw me standing there, and her face went through about 15 different emotions in two seconds. I sat down across from her without asking permission.

I took out my phone and I showed her the emails—the emails where Brendan and his colleague discussed how to leverage her. The emails where they called her a “useful idiot.”

Those exact words: “useful idiot.” I showed her the emails where they laughed about how easy she was to manipulate.

I showed her the emails where her boyfriend promised to dump her once he got his promotion and she was no longer needed. Paloma read those emails and started to cry.

It wasn’t delicate tears; it was ugly, messy, snot-running-down-her-face crying. She kept saying she was sorry over and over, but I did not want her apologies.

I wanted her to understand what she had done. I told her that she had testified against her own sister for a man who was using her.

I told her that she had helped take children away from their mother for dinner reservations and a leased car. I told her that our grandmother would be ashamed of her, and I watched that hit her like a physical blow.

Then I told her she had a choice. She could continue down the path she had chosen, living with the Holloways and pretending everything was fine.

Or she could tell the truth. She could sign an affidavit admitting that she was coached, that she was pressured, and that she was promised rewards for her testimony.

She could try to make things right. Paloma chose the truth.

Two days later, I had her sworn affidavit describing exactly how Brendan and his lawyer had prepared her testimony. She detailed what they told her to say, what they told her to emphasize, and how they promised her boyfriend would stay with her if she cooperated.

It was devastating evidence of witness tampering, and it was going to blow their case apart. The week before the hearing, Diana and I did final preparations.

We had the forensic accounting report documenting every hidden dollar. We had the property records for the Lake Tahoe condo.

We had bank statements showing payments to Constance. We had evidence of the affair with Kendra Whitmore and her pregnancy.

We had proof that Brendan had committed perjury in his deposition. We had Paloma’s affidavit about being coached.

We had everything we needed. The night before the hearing, I could not sleep.

I stood at the window of my tiny studio apartment, looking out at the brick wall that had been my view for eight months. And I thought about everything that had led to this moment.

The girl who trusted too easily. The wife who never questioned.

The mother who lost everything. I was not that woman anymore.

I had been broken, yes, but I had rebuilt myself into something stronger. Tomorrow, Brendan Holloway was going to learn what happens when you underestimate someone you tried to destroy.

The Final Reckoning

The courtroom felt different now. The last time I’d been here, I was a broken woman watching her life collapse.

Today I was something else entirely. Brendan arrived with his lawyer carrying a thin folder.

They hadn’t prepared for anything except an easy victory. Constance Holloway sat behind them wearing pearls and a satisfied smile.

Then I walked in with Diana Prescott carrying three thick folders and a banker’s box. Behind us was Harrison Wells with his forensic accounting report.

Brendan’s smirk flickered when he noticed the folders. Diana’s opening was brief.

She cited evidence of fraud in the original divorce proceedings, deliberately falsified financial disclosures, and grounds to set aside the judgment and reconsider custody. Harrison Wells testified first.

He traced Brendan’s hidden LLC and the monthly transfers disguised as consulting fees. The total concealed from marital assets was $862,000.

But he wasn’t finished. He presented property records for a Lake Tahoe condo: four bedrooms, lake view, purchased through the LLC for $380,000.

It was a vacation home hidden throughout our entire marriage and divorce. Then came the payments to Constance: $72,000 for administrative services never performed.

It was tax fraud implicating both of them. Diana played the recording of Brendan’s deposition, his own voice.

“Do you own any businesses outside your primary employment?”

“No,” Brendan’s voice answered.

“Any property other than the family home?”

“No.”

“Any financial relationships with family members?”

“No.”

Lie after lie in his own words. Brendan’s lawyer requested a recess.

He was furious. He’d walked into what he thought was an easy case and discovered his client had committed multiple felonies and lied to him about it.