“I’m not protecting Vanessa,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you. I’m the one who built that garage.”
“And I’m the one losing customers.”
We sat in silence, both angry and both trying to defend the same life from opposite directions.
Then Vanessa texted me.
The words hurt him. I saw it immediately.
Last chance: Apologize publicly at the HOA meeting on the 14th. I’ll be expecting you.
Irvin held out his hand.
“Give me your phone. If we’re deciding what to do, I want to see exactly what she’s showing people.”
He compared her screenshots with the conversations on his own phone. His eyes went wide.
“We’ve got her,” he whispered.
Last chance: Apologize publicly at the HOA meeting
“What?”
“Claire. Come here.”
Vanessa hadn’t simply selected flattering messages. She had cropped them.
In one exchange, she’d written, Wish I had a man like you.
She had circulated that line but cut off Irvin’s response: You’ll find one. I’ve already got the woman I want.
