My Cult Elder Ex-Fiancé Tried to Take My Son and $85,000 using Illegal Custody Papers — Until My Witness and Son Exposed Him in Secret
Malik paced our small living room, the official-looking court summons clutched in his hand. His jaw was tight, his eyes blazing with a mixture of confusion and righteous anger. He had been so quiet after Bernice’s confession, taking it all in.
“This is a lie,” he declared, slapping the papers onto the coffee table. “All of it.”
“I know,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But they look so real.”
He pointed to the seal on the document. “This county seal. And the notary’s stamp. I’m taking these to the courthouse.”
“What if they are real, Malik?” I whispered, a knot tightening in my chest. “What if he actually found a way?”
Malik’s gaze softened for a moment, then hardened again. “No way. Not like this. We’re going to find out, right now.”
He left me with Noah, who was quietly drawing a picture of a superhero fighting a shadowy figure. I tried to focus on his crayon strokes, but my mind raced, replaying Bernice’s words, the numbers in the ledger.
Hours later, the front door burst open, and Malik strode in. His face was a mask of furious disbelief, but also a strange relief.
“It’s a complete sham,” he announced, dropping the papers onto the table again. His voice was low, vibrating with suppressed rage.
“What are you saying?” I asked, pushing myself up from the couch.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I showed the papers to a clerk down at the county court. She checked the docket, the filing system, every single possible record.”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. These papers were never filed. No judge has seen them. No official has touched them.”
My knees felt weak. “But the stamp… the notary…”
“Fake,” he spat the word. “The clerk recognized it immediately. She said it’s a common tactic used in… certain communities. They use a notary that’s in on it. Someone who stamps things that are never actually submitted.”
“An inside job,” I murmured, the implications chilling me to the bone.
“Exactly,” Malik said, his eyes narrowing. “The notary listed on these papers, Sister Bethany Jenkins? The clerk knew her name. She said Bethany used to work in the county office, but she was fired years ago for ‘administrative irregularities.’ She’s also a long-standing member of Mount Zion, according to the clerk’s old records.”
My mind reeled. Bethany. I knew Bethany. She’d been a pleasant, quiet woman, always volunteering at church events. She’d retired around the same time Bernice had.
Elijah wasn’t just fabricating financial claims. He was fabricating the entire legal system, creating official-looking documents with fraudulent stamps and signatures, all to terrorize me into giving up Noah and my savings. He was using our own church community to create this web of intimidation, weaponizing the trust we placed in familiar faces. The realization solidified in my gut: this was a systematic attack, not a simple ex-lover’s quarrel.
Malik slammed his fist lightly on the table, a controlled burst of anger. “He didn’t want a real judge. He wanted you to believe he had a real judge. He wanted to scare you into handing over Noah and that $85,000 without a fight.”
His eyes met mine, raw and fierce. “We’re going to fight.”
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