The anger on his face immediately disappeared, replaced by shock.
“Wait, Audrey, what are you even saying right now?” he asked, his voice wavering.
I took my mother by the arm and supported her weight.
“I am saying that my mother and I are leaving this home together,” I answered firmly.
“If you walk through that door with her tonight, don’t you ever think about coming back here again!” Dustin screamed behind us.
I never turned around.
That night, my mother and I stayed in a modest hotel room near the city center. Her cheek remained red and visibly swollen from the blow.
“Are you truly planning to go through with a divorce?” my mother asked quietly as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, Mom, I am definitely divorcing him,” I answered while soaking a clean washcloth in cold water for her face.
She reached over and took my hand.
“Then I am not going to leave your side through any of this,” she whispered softly.
My close friend Paige, who had worked as a lawyer for years, arrived at our hotel room shortly after I called her.
The instant Paige noticed the painful red mark on my mother’s face, her relaxed expression became completely serious.
“Tomorrow morning we are going to see a physician for a medical report, and then we will head straight to the police station to file a formal complaint,” Paige said firmly. “And Audrey, do not delete a single item from your phone, including text messages, bank statements, personal emails, or account activity history.”
As Paige explained what we needed to do legally, Dustin began sending me a constant stream of angry text messages.
“When you finally get over your silly emotional anger, come back home where you belong,” his first message read.
A few minutes later, another notification appeared.
“I am willing to apologize for lost tempers, but your mother is certainly not innocent in this situation either,” he wrote.
Then, before going silent for the night, he sent one final message.
“Go right ahead with your dramatic routine, and let us see who ends up regretting this choice in the end,” Dustin texted.
The following morning, at exactly eight seventeen AM, Paige called me with urgency in her voice.
“Audrey, I need you to open your online banking application right this second,” Paige instructed clearly.
“Why, Paige? What is going on?” I asked, suddenly anxious.
