This is bad. Very bad. Evan’s been building his case for months, looking for any excuse to modify custody. And now someone has handed him exactly what he needed—public proof that I’m involving the kids with Dex, exposing them to media attention, changing their lives in exactly the ways Judge Willis has previously cautioned against.
I scroll through Instagram, finding the team’s story. There we are, the three of us in matching jerseys, looking every inch the happy family unit with Dex. The post is still up, being viewed by thousands of followers with every passing minute.
I call Jessica, my attorney, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold the phone.
“It’s Sunday,” she answers, clearly surprised to hear from me.
“Emergency,” I say, my voice tight with suppressed panic. “The team posted photos of my kids with Dex on their social media. Evan’s already threatening to call his lawyer tomorrow.”
Jessica sighs. “What exactly did they post?”
I explain the situation, forwarding her the screenshot Evan sent.
“Okay,” she says after a moment. “First step, contact the team immediately and have them take it down.”
“But the damage is already done,” I point out, fear making my voice sharper than I intend. “Evan has the screenshot. He’s probably sending it to his lawyer right now.”
“One problem at a time,” Jessica counsels. “Get the post removed, then we’ll deal with Evan. This isn’t as damning as you think, Golda. Kids attend sporting events with their mother’s boyfriend all the time. Wearing team merchandise isn’t going to lose you custody.”
“I can’t risk it,” I say, decision crystallizing. “We need to leave. Now. Before there are more photos, more ammunition for him.”
“That’s your call,” Jessica says. “But running might look worse than staying.”
She has a point, but my protective instincts are screaming. I need to get the kids away from here, away from the cameras and curious eyes and potential social media exposure.
Another text arrives, this one from a number I don’t recognize.
This is Kyla, Elliot gave me your number. I just learned that a new staff member posted a photo of you and your children without permission. We’re removing it immediately and issuing an apology. Please call me at your convenience.
Too late. The damage is done. The post might disappear, but Evan has seen it, screenshotted it, and is sending it to his lawyer already.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
“Golda?” It’s Elliot’s voice. “Kimmy said you might need a friend. Can I come in?”
I unlock the door with trembling hands, relief washing over me at the sight of her concerned face.
“Evan saw a post,” I say without preamble, showing her my phone. “He’s threatening modification.”
Elliot’s expression darkens as she reads the texts. “That absolute—” She catches herself. “Okay. Deep breath. What do you want to do?”
“To get the post taken down.” I rake a hand through my hair. “But Evan has screenshots. He’s going to try to use this against me.”
“He’s always looking for something to use against you,” Elliot points out. “If it wasn’t this, it would be something else.”
“This is different,” I insist. “He already has everyone on edge about exposing the kids to ‘unnecessary attention’ during the last mediation. And now here we are, on the team’s official Instagram, wearing Dex’s jerseys like we’re playing happy family.”
“You are happy,” Elliot says firmly. “The kids are happy. That’s what matters.”
“Not to the family court,” I counter, fear giving way to anger. “Not to Evan. We need to leave. Now. Before there’s more damage.”
“Running won’t solve this,” Elliot argues. “Evan will just use it as more evidence that you’re unstable, making impulsive decisions.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I demand, frustration and fear making my voice crack. “Sit there smiling while they take more photos? Pretend everything’s fine when Evan’s threatening to take my kids?”
“No,” Elliot says calmly. “You’re going to breathe. Then we’re going to find whoever’s in charge of social media and make it very clear that no more photos go up. Then we’re going to enjoy the rest of the game because your kids are having the time of their lives, and you deserve some happiness too.”
Her steadiness helps ground me, but the fear doesn’t subside. “What if Evan?—”
