Chapter 9 - The Affidavit
The original affidavit was twenty-one pages.
Derrick read it alone.
Not the way he had read it before signing eight months ago—skimming for errors, trusting Grant’s framing, feeling righteous because every paragraph supported the conclusion he wanted.
This time he read it as Aisha might have.
Paragraph 11:
Father has historically maintained greater consistency regarding educational routines.
Not true.
Paragraph 14:
Mother has repeatedly failed to exercise scheduled parenting periods.
Misleading.
Paragraph 18:
Mother’s residential circumstances remain unpredictable.
Created partly by him.
Paragraph 22:
Father has significant family support readily available to ensure continuity.
True when he wrote it.
Less true now.
Loretta had stayed almost every weekday for the first three months after the order.
Then her own obligations increased.
Derrick had hired an after-school sitter three afternoons a week.
There was nothing wrong with childcare.
What troubled him was remembering how his attorney had attacked Aisha for relying on her cousin during late workdays.
Ordinary parenting assistance had become evidence of weakness only when she used it.
He reached paragraph 27.
Mother appears unable to prioritize the children’s needs above professional obligations.
Derrick closed the document.
His chest felt tight.
Aisha had turned down a promotion when Maya was four.
She had worked remotely through Elijah’s preschool year.
She had coordinated almost every pediatric appointment.
Yet during the six months before separation she had accepted a new management position that occasionally required evening calls.
Derrick had resented it.
Not because the children suffered.
Because suddenly he had to adjust.
He had called that instability.
His own travel had been career.
Hers had been abandonment.
The hypocrisy looked different on paper.
Loretta entered without knocking.
Derrick did not object.
She saw the affidavit.
“You reading it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
“Did you hate Aisha?”
Loretta seemed surprised.
“No.”
“You testified against her.”
“I was angry with her.”
“Why?”
Loretta sat.
“Because you were hurting.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It was enough at the time.”
Derrick looked down.
“She could be disrespectful.”
“Yes.”
“She made me feel useless.”
“I know.”
“She complained about me to her sister.”
“So?”
He looked up sharply.
Loretta shrugged.
“Married people complain.”
“You didn’t like her.”
“I didn’t like how she spoke to you sometimes.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
Loretta leaned forward.
“And I should have remembered that.”
Derrick rubbed both hands together.
“Would you testify again?”
Loretta took time before answering.
“If I’m subpoenaed, I will tell the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That I repeated things I believed because you presented them as complete.”
Derrick’s eyes hardened.
“So you’re going to make me look like a liar.”
“No.”
Loretta’s voice remained calm.
“Your choices will do that or they won’t.”
He looked away.
She sighed.
“Derrick, I love you.”
He said nothing.
“Loving you does not require me to help you avoid consequences.”
His jaw tightened.
“That sounds like something Aisha would say.”
“Maybe Aisha was right about some things.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Everybody suddenly discovered that.”
“No.”
Loretta stood.
“Everybody finally stopped being afraid you would call disagreement betrayal.”
The sentence struck deeper than she intended.
Derrick’s face changed.
Loretta saw it.
“So that’s what this is?” he asked. “You’re choosing her?”
“There should never have been teams.”
“There were.”
“Because you built them.”
Derrick stood too.
“Aisha had lawyers.”
“You had me.”
“She had friends.”
“You had me.”
“She had everyone believing I was some lazy husband who didn’t know his children.”
Loretta stared at him.
“Did she tell a judge that?”
Silence.
“That is the difference.”
Derrick turned away.
Loretta picked up her purse.
At the door, she stopped.
“Your children do not need you to prove you were right.”
He kept his back to her.
“They need you to become safe enough to be wrong.”
After she left, Derrick returned to the affidavit.
He reached the signature page.
I declare under penalty of perjury that the foregoing is true and correct to the best of my knowledge.
His own signature sat beneath it.
Strong.
Confident.
Final.
His phone rang.
Aisha.
He almost ignored it.
Instead, he answered.
“What?”
“Maya’s teacher emailed both of us.”
“I saw.”
“She needs poster board Monday.”
“I know.”
“Derrick.”
“What?”
“I’m not calling about court.”
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
A pause.
“She also has a math assessment Thursday,” Aisha said.
“I’ll practice with her.”
“Okay.”
Another pause.
“Anything else?”
“Elijah needs his allergy refill next week.”
“I scheduled it.”
Aisha became quiet.
Derrick understood why.
For years, she had reminded him.
This time he had done it.
“Good,” she said.
The word carried no praise.
Only acknowledgment.
He found himself strangely grateful for that.
“Aisha.”
“Yes?”
“I’m reading the affidavit.”
Her voice changed.
“Why?”
“Because I needed to.”
She waited.
Derrick looked at paragraph 27 again.
“I shouldn’t have said you prioritized work over them.”
Silence.
He continued.
“That wasn’t true.”
Aisha did not rescue him from the discomfort.
After several seconds, she said, “No. It wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
Another silence.
“Are you willing to put that in writing?”
There it was.
Derrick felt the old resistance rise.
Lawyers.
Consequences.
Humiliation.
His instinct was to bargain.
“I’m telling you now.”
“I heard you.”
“Doesn’t that matter?”
“It matters personally.”
He gripped the phone.
“But?”
“It doesn’t correct the record.”
Derrick looked at his signature.
Aisha’s voice remained calm.
“You were willing to put the accusation in writing when it benefited you.”
His throat tightened.
“So yes, Derrick.”
“If the apology is real, I need you to be willing to put that in writing too.”
The call ended five minutes later.
Derrick sat alone.
Then his email chimed.
A message from Grant.
PROPOSED RESPONSE STRATEGY.
Derrick opened it.
The first recommendation read:
Deny any intentional misrepresentation and characterize inconsistencies as minor memory errors.
Derrick stared.
Eight months earlier, he would have followed the strategy without hesitation.
Now he looked at the affidavit.
Then at Aisha’s old email on the screen beside it.
I’m drowning in all the invisible stuff.
His phone rang again.
This time it was the after-school sitter.
She sounded apologetic.
“Mr. Carter, I need to give you notice. I won’t be able to continue after next Friday.”
Derrick went still.
“Why?”
“My nursing schedule changed.”
He thanked her and ended the call.
Then he looked around the house.
At the calendar.
The homework.
The laundry.
The life he had insisted he could manage better.
For the first time, he admitted something to himself he still did not know how to tell Aisha.
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
He had not proposed joint custody because he had suddenly become enlightened.
He had proposed it because he was failing at the life he had fought to win.
