Chapter 2 - Dad Had Found My Name In A Court Draft
My father did not explain himself in front of the children.
That mattered.
Whatever anger Richard felt toward Ethan, he still understood that my eight-year-old son and six-year-old daughter did not need to hear adults discussing custody, adultery, or legal strategy over broken glass.
He looked at me.
“Take the kids upstairs.”
I shook my head.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Madeline—”
“No.”
My voice surprised me.
I was shaking everywhere except where it mattered.
“This is my house. My marriage. My children. If you know something, say it.”
Ethan finally lowered his voice.
“Richard is trying to stir you up.”
Lauren whispered:
“Ethan, we should go.”
Dad laughed once.
That frightened her even more.
“Go where, Lauren? To the attorney you met with on Tuesday?”
Ethan looked at her.
“What attorney?”
Lauren stopped breathing.
That was the first moment I realized Ethan did not know everything.
Dad reached inside his jacket and removed a folded document.
Not the original.
A copy.
He laid it on the dry end of the dining table, several feet from the shattered glass.
At the top were the words:
DRAFT PETITION REGARDING TEMPORARY CUSTODY AND PARENTAL FITNESS
My name appeared underneath.
Madeline Ross.
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Dad.
“What is that?”
“A draft.”
“For who?”
Dad’s eyes moved toward Lauren.
“She can answer that.”
Lauren immediately said:
“It’s not what you think.”
Ethan shifted her slightly in his arms but still did not put her down.
“What the hell is this?”
She turned toward him.
“Ethan, listen—”
“No. What custody petition?”
I stared at my husband.
He looked genuinely confused.
That did not make him innocent.
It meant his betrayal had layers he had not bothered to examine.
Dad tapped the document.
“This draft argues Madeline is medically and emotionally unstable because of her pregnancy, incapable of safely managing the children, and should have temporary restrictions placed on custody after delivery.”
The room disappeared around me.
Eight months pregnant.
Tired.
Occasionally anxious.
Having contractions.
And somewhere, someone had been converting that into evidence that I should lose my children.
May you like
I looked at Lauren.
Her face told me Dad had found the right paper.
