Chapter 6 - Marjorie’s Sunday Triumph
Inside that envelope was a copy of Iowa's statutory abandonment code, a printed invoice for my half of the remaining mortgage, and a formal note instructing Todd that all future communication must go through legal counsel. When Todd read it, his immediate reaction wasn't remorse—it was fury. Within twenty minutes, my phone began vibrating continuously with calls, voicemails, and messages from both Todd and his mother. I had already forwarded their numbers directly to voicemail, but listening to the notifications later was like examining the psychology of two completely delusional predators.
Marjorie's voicemail came first, her voice dripping with venomous condescension. ""Rebecca, you are committing a mortal sin! Taking furniture out of that house? Threatening divorce over supporting your husband’s mother? You are an ungrateful, spiteful woman. Todd gave you the best years of his life, and you repay him by stealing from his home! Just wait until our church community hears about this. You won’t be able to show your face in this town!"" Then came Todd’s message, his voice cracking with rage and wounded pride. ""You think you're smart, Rebecca? You think you can survive on your own? Who’s going to maintain your car? Who’s going to fix the furnace when it breaks? You’re fifty years old, Rebecca! Nobody is waiting for you out there. You come back here right now, or I swear to God, I will take every dime you have in the divorce!""
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They genuinely thought they held all the cards. On Monday morning, Marjorie took it a step further. Convinced that she could publicly shame me into backing down, she showed up at Hawthorne Orthopedic Clinic at 10:00 a.m. dressed in her Sunday finest, carrying a leather binder. She walked up to the patient check-in counter and demanded to speak with the clinic administrator. When Dr. Robert Vance, the head orthopedic surgeon and managing partner, came out to see what the commotion was about, Marjorie put on an Oscar-worthy performance of a heartbroken, frail mother-in-law.
""Dr. Vance, I am so sorry to disturb your clinic,"" Marjorie said loudly, ensuring several patients and nurses in the waiting area could hear every word. ""My daughter-in-law, Rebecca, has suffered a severe mental breakdown over the weekend. She abandoned my son, stole marital assets, and is recklessly handling family finances. As her family, we need to take over her payroll distributions immediately to protect her from herself. I have the power of attorney paperwork right here."" Dr. Vance looked down at the documents, then looked at Marjorie over the rims of his glasses. What Marjorie didn't know was that Dr. Vance wasn't just my employer; he had known me for fourteen years, had reviewed Samuel's dashcam footage with me at 8:00 a.m. that very morning, and had already notified the clinic's corporate legal team.
