top of page
Writer's pictureLaura Taliancich

Part 17: Crumbling Dreams

Updated: May 15

I met with an attorney who agreed with my friends from the "intervention" that something was not adding up. The recommendation was to hire a private investigator in the hopes we would have some definitive information about what he was up to. I spoke with the PI they used most often, and we moved forward in retaining my attorney.


Meanwhile, the end of February appeared to be very busy for his business (nearly all made-up). It afforded him the opportunity to gift her additional jewelry, bring her Starbucks, Chick-fil-a, and vape cartridges as often as the opportunity arose, and made sure she had access to the money for "them" when she would go to lunch with friends. Meanwhile, I received notice that my car was up for repossession. Since he had closed our joint account months prior, I had to trust he was somehow paying our bills through other account(s). Anytime I asked about the existence of our next bank account, he would tell me he was "working on it". The cash amounts he would leave were never sufficient; I would sell things on social media to try to piece together the deficit.




She began to worry that her friend's mom & her mom would soon have the opportunity to get together & connect the dots about their whereabouts the last few months (the girls - per his suggestion - told their parents that the trap house was a friend's house). He even chivalrously offered to come to the door so the parents would "think he was the dad", and had an eloquent response for how he might talk to her mom for her.



He took our son to Texas to see my stepdaughter and bring her the college graduation gift jeep (took him a while to acquire a tag for it). He sent her constant pictures of my son. I received one.

When they came home, my son had had a blast going to the movies, eating junk food, and received a new Lego set. My middle looked so hopeful when my son walked in, but he walked in alone. His dad "didn't have time" to come inside and speak to any of the rest of us, and didn't get so much as a piece of candy from the gas station for my daughter. As though her feelings weren't already hurt that she wasn't included on the trip, seeing her brother with his arms full of new Legos (there was no birthday or special occasion during that time - HER birthday was actually the next celebration in a few weeks).


He would be leaving town again soon, so he had to "work late" at the restaurant to make up for it. He texted that evening to let me know that the manager who worked for him (who joined him at the beach months prior for the blackout weekend and shared "their home" with him and the girl's best friend) had been in "an accident" and was hospitalized so he needed to go check on him. Funny, nearly eight months prior, I had to BEG him to come see me, his wife of nearly 14 years, as our new baby & I were gravely ill in the hospital. Nevertheless, I told him that I hoped the manager was ok and we would see him later.


The manager was actually hospitalized due to too many substances. He had given the hospital his (minor) girlfriend's phone number as his ICE contact, so the two girls went to the hospital to check on him. He had to be sedated and then intubated, and his girlfriend was given paperwork to sign before she left. Understandably shaken, she went home and confessed everything to her stepmom.


For the next few days, our modern-day Romeo & Juliet worried over how things would pan out now that they were busted.



I was completely unaware any of this was taking place and his horrendous mood was par for the course when he was home at this point, so I thought nothing of it.


March 1, 2023, everything changed.


I received a Facebook message asking me to call a woman I didn't know. She explained that she was the stepmom of the best friend (I didn't know their names, so citing the names didn't register anything familiar) who was friends with the girl (didn't recognize that name, either) and they both worked at (name of the restaurant).


My heart dropped into my stomach. I was home with the baby waiting to leave for her feeding therapy, so I dialed the phone number provided with shaking hands.


The stepmom answered, introduced herself, and asked if I was still married to my husband. I confirmed & mentioned that I had a few concerns and had recently retained an attorney (thanking God daily I had already done so) but needed a private investigator to perform some surveillance. She replied that it was a good thing I had an attorney but there was no need to hire a PI - she was one.


She proceeded to tell me that my husband of nearly 14 years had been sleeping with a 17-year-old high school student, providing her with alcohol, and kept referencing "that house". I finally stopped her to ask what house she was talking about. If this was true, I was home all the time with the kids - how would this even take place? She explained that he rented a house for them several months ago and that they essentially lived there full time. The stepmom had already gone to the house at this point and collected her stepdaughter's belongings, and shared with me the state of the house.


The girls' phones had been confiscated, and she was now in possession of every text, picture, and video I would ever need "to bury him" as she put it.


I felt like the oxygen left the room.


If you haven't yet, read the first post in this blog about how we had to leave town, and we can meet up again in Part 18 once it's shared for what happens next.




3,449 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page