It was a regular evening, nothing out of the ordinary—until my phone pinged.
The notification was a message from someone I didn’t know. It read:
“You don’t know me. I am the mother of two girls who were abused by your partner.
You need to know that you and your children are not safe.”
I was eight months pregnant, washing dishes after dinner, my partner Alan reading to our young son in the other room. The shock of those words nearly made me collapse.
My hands shook as I tried to read the full message, and my mind raced, struggling to make sense of it. The woman claimed to have been married to Alan’s stepbrother and said Alan wasn’t his real name.
She said he had been to prison in another country and had changed his identity after his release.
I didn’t want to believe it. But I kept reading.
The message described in chilling detail what my partner had done to her daughters when they were just seven and nine years old. The allegations were impossible to ignore.
Alan had a past I never knew about, and it shook me to the core.
Denial and Doubt
When I showed Alan the message, I desperately asked him to deny it.
He quickly dismissed it, claiming the woman was a close friend of his ex-wife with a vendetta. He said I couldn’t possibly believe such terrible accusations.
He even told me about his own traumatic childhood, hoping to explain away the dark past I was now confronting.
Part of me wanted to believe him. But as I looked at him, the man I thought I knew, doubts crept in.
His family had always been absent, and he never spoke about his past.
Was he hiding something, or was he just a victim of his own history?
Despite the turmoil, I tried to trust him. After all, we were about to have another child together.
But the worry I pushed away in pregnancy slowly began to resurface, growing louder with each passing day.
The Growing Fears
As my second son was born, the shadows of suspicion loomed larger. I couldn’t escape the questions in my mind.
What if everything I had just read was true? What if I had been living with someone capable of such horrors?
Alan tried to reassure me. He suggested therapy and shared more of his painful childhood memories.
But despite his words, my doubts remained.
The man I loved might have been hiding something far darker than I could imagine.
The Turning Point
My childhood had been filled with love and stability, raised by a caring psychiatrist father and psychologist mother.
I had worked hard to build a successful career, eventually becoming the CEO of a think tank at just 32.
I thought I had it all: professional success, a loving family, and a partner who seemed perfect.
Then, everything fell apart. After months of anxiety, I finally reached out to the woman who had messaged me.
She connected me with Alan’s ex-wife, who agreed to meet.
Her fear was palpable, but what she told me shattered any remaining illusions I had about Alan.
She confirmed my worst fears: I was married to a man with a dark and criminal past.
The Struggle for Justice
I contacted a lawyer, but to my horror, I learned that Alan’s past convictions would likely be seen as irrelevant in family court.
Social services dismissed my concerns, and I had to take drastic measures to protect my children.
I hired a nanny and arranged for my parents to help care for the boys.
But all the while, I had to pretend everything was normal, even as Alan’s behavior became increasingly erratic and violent.
At first, the abuse was verbal. Alan belittled me, calling me hysterical and spoilt.
Soon, the abuse escalated. He would punch walls, break doors, and verbally torment me.
Neighbors called the police multiple times, and the situation became unbearable.
A Breaking Point
Alan’s manipulation continued. He made me doubt myself and my parenting, accusing me of not understanding our children’s needs.
It took a toll on me mentally, even as I kept up appearances at work. I couldn’t let anyone know the hell I was living through.
When I finally confided in two friends, they were shocked, questioning how I could have stayed with someone who treated me so badly.
Their disbelief stung, but it also highlighted the confusion victims of domestic abuse often face. How could I have fallen for someone who turned out to be a monster?
The manipulation, the control, and the violence continued, until one night when Alan slapped me in front of our children.
The look of terror on their faces was the breaking point. This time, I called the police.
A New Chapter
The police took Alan away, and the officers were kind to my children, giving them bravery medals and taking them on a trip to Legoland. But the legal battle was far from over.
Alan fought for access to our children, dragging me to court 37 times over the next eight years.
The family courts often seemed more concerned with the idea of “parental alienation” than with the real danger he posed.
Despite all the evidence of his abuse and his criminal past, the courts initially pushed for shared custody.
The experience left me feeling defeated, and I was diagnosed with PTSD.
But through it all, my family remained my rock, supporting me every step of the way.
Healing and Advocacy
Today, my sons are healthy, happy adolescents, and they’ve never seen their father again.
I’ve also found healing through supporting other survivors of domestic abuse.
Through my work with the charity Fair Hearing, I’ve helped over 80 women navigate the terrifying court system, advocating for better treatment of abuse victims in family courts.
The road to healing was long, but my family’s support helped me rebuild my life.
My sons and I are stronger now, and we’ve learned that even after surviving the unimaginable, we can overcome it.
Domestic abuse is far more common than we think, and while the legal system has a long way to go in terms of supporting victims, change is happening.
We can’t undo the past, but together, we can create a better future for survivors and their children.
Julia Margo is the director of the Fair Hearing charity.