Prologue - Betrayal

Worn down from the day's activities, Sandy Tatum arrived home from her job at the prestigious private school where she worked as a fourth-grade teacher. She was as beautiful as she was smart, with mocha skin, coal-black hair that grew past her shoulders, and round walnut brown eyes ringed by long eyelashes. She couldn't wait to get inside the home she shared with her husband of fifteen years, Ronald "Ice" Tatum, a hardworking truck driver who hauled whatever to wherever to make sure that he could take care of his wife and their thirteen year- old daughter, Isis.

It had been a long day. The parent of one of her students had come to the school to cuss her out, and then her car had refused to start, so Sandy had had to have it towed. A coworker was kind enough to drop her off. All she wanted was a hot bath and glass of wine, but when she reached her front door, she found an envelope taped to it.

"What now?" Sandy sighed, throwing her arms up in the air and then dropping them to her side. Surely all of the bills have been paid, Sandy thought before ripping the envelope off the door. And nothing is delinquent, not even that raggedy-ass car that I shouldn't be paying for. Sandy pulled the contents out of the envelope. She couldn't believe her eyes as she read the papers. Her lips moved as she read the words: Ronald Tatum has been summoned to appear in juvenile court for a child support hearing.

Child support? she thought to herself. This has got to be a mistake. It just had to be. She had been married to the man for over fifteen years. Certainly she would've known if he had fathered other children besides their own daughter. Wouldn't she? Confused and upset, Sandy went in the house and called the number on the summons. "Juvenile and Domestic," the clerk answered. "Mrs. Joplin speaking. How can I help you?"
"Yes. My name is Mrs. Sandy Tatum, and I'm calling in regard to a summons I found taped to my front door," Sandy explained.
"There must be some kind of mistake. It's for child support and is addressed to my husband, who only has one child. Mine. And I sure haven't taken him to court for child support. He takes care of home just fine." Sandy went on and on, trying to convince the clerk that there was indeed an error. But then again, maybe she was really trying to convince herself.

"Well, let's see, Mrs. . . . aah . . . Tatum?"
"Yes, that's right. T-A-T-U-M." Sandy enunciated each letter as she heard the clerk beating away at her keyboard. "I see. Well, let me pull it up so that we can try to solve this problem, or at least get some clarity on the issue," the clerk offered before a slight pause, as she pulled the file up on her computer screen.

"Thank you very much." Sandy waited impatiently for only a few seconds, but they seemed like hours. "Okay. Here we go. Ronald I. Tatum," the clerk said as she read her computer screen. "The petitioner is a Ms. Brenda B. Cross, and the child in question is named Phoebe Cross." Sandy couldn't breathe. The air had been sucked right out of her lungs and spit into the atmosphere. The phone went silent.

"Mrs. Tatum, are you there?" Mrs. Joplin asked in a sympathetic tone. She had recently divorced a cheating bastard masquerading as a devoted husband, so she knew how Sandy felt. Thankfully, in her case, there were no children involved. "Yes." Sandy tried to regain what was left of her composure. "I'm here. Thank you very much. You've been a great help."

"No problem," Mrs. Joplin said. "I understand. I've been there, done that. If‚" Click! Sandy hung up the phone before the nice lady could finish her sentence.