Caleb slipped a purple grape into his backpack, as if he wanted to carry it into the future as evidence.
Nathan slammed his palm against the counter.
“You’re going to regret this. At the hearing, I’ll make it clear you can’t maintain the lifestyle our son needs. And if I have to, I’ll request an evaluation to prove Caleb requires specialized care—not a proud mother pretending she’s a businesswoman.”
My son went completely still.
Vanessa stepped closer to Nathan and adjusted his collar.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go. There’s no use arguing with someone who doesn’t know her place.”
That was when Caleb murmured without lifting his head,
“She doesn’t know hers either.”
Nathan turned around.
“What did you say?”
Caleb hugged his backpack.
“Nothing.”
But I heard him.
And for the first time that morning, my fear stepped back.
Nathan picked up the folder, threw it at me again, and pointed toward the door.
“I’ll see you in court, Olivia. Bring the boy if you want. Maybe then the judge will understand why no reasonable man would want the burden of raising him.”
Caleb blinked once.
I pulled him against my chest as Nathan walked out of the kitchen with Vanessa on his arm.
Before stepping through the doorway, she turned and said,
“Enjoy your last few days here. This house is about to have a real family.”
Then Caleb opened his backpack, pulled out a black notebook I had never seen before, and asked me,
“Mom, can I show the bad numbers in court?”
I didn’t sleep that night.
