The first thing my daughter said when I came home early was, “Careful, Dad. It’s wet. I’m almost done.”

At one o’clock that afternoon, I sat in the conference room of Vance & Associates in downtown Plano. Across from me sat David Vance, a veteran family law attorney whose calm, grandfatherly demeanor concealed a ruthless tactical mind in the courtroom.

Spread across the polished mahogany table were documents that had been retrieved from my house by the police escort who had overseen Tiffany’s initial removal that morning.

“It’s worse than simple domestic exploitation, Greg,” David Vance said, sliding a bank statement across the table toward me.

I looked at the numbers. “What is this?”

“This is an account Tiffany opened eight months ago at Chase Bank under an LLC named ‘Holloway Domestic Management,’” David explained, tapping a manicured finger against the transaction ledger. “Every month, you deposited three thousand five hundred dollars into your joint household account for grocery expenses, cleaning services, and home maintenance.”

“Yes,” I said. “That was for the bi-weekly cleaning crew, the lawn service, and pantry stocking.”

“Tiffany cancelled the cleaning service in August,” David said. “She also cancelled the laundry drop-off service. She diverted over two thousand dollars a month from that allowance directly into this secondary account. In eight months, she accumulated over sixteen thousand dollars in cash reserves while forcing Maya to perform the work of a three-person cleaning crew.”

My stomach churned with renewed disgust. “She was profiting off my daughter’s labor.”

“Legally speaking, it’s financial malfeasance in a marital estate combined with child labor exploitation,” David said calmly. “When we present this alongside Mrs. Callahan’s sworn testimony, the forged medical emails regarding Maya’s supposed migraines, and your video recording, Tiffany has zero leverage. None. She won't receive a dime of temporary spousal support, and any claim she might have had to equity in your pre-marital home is completely obliterated.”

The conference room door opened, and David’s paralegal stepped inside, handing him a printed facsimile.

David read the paper, a grim smile touching the corners of his mouth. “The Collin County district judge just signed the temporary restraining order. Tiffany is barred from coming within five hundred feet of you, Maya, Maya’s school, and your residence. She has ninety minutes this afternoon, accompanied by Collin County sheriff’s deputies, to retrieve her clothing and personal electronics. After that, if she sets foot on your street, she will be arrested immediately.”

I took a deep breath, the first full, unconstricted breath I felt like I had taken in forty-eight hours. “What about Hailey?”

“Hailey’s father, Mark, was notified this morning by Child Protective Services,” David replied. “He is currently driving down from Oklahoma City to pick Hailey up from school. Given the CPS investigation into Tiffany’s household conduct, Mark has already filed for emergency full custody in Oklahoma. Tiffany’s world is unraveling very quickly, Greg. And she brought every single thread of it down on herself.”

I stood up from the table, shaking David’s hand. “Thank you, David.”