That was an answer.
Connor stood. “This is absurd. You’re trying to take my child because you couldn’t have one.”
The cruelty was familiar.
But this time, it did not cut the same way.
Because behind it, I heard panic.
Kenneth rose too. “Sit down, Mr. Fleming.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“No,” Kenneth said. “But I can tell you that leaving this room will not make the court filings disappear.”
Connor froze.
“Court filings?” he repeated.
Kenneth tapped the folder. “Emergency petition. Preservation request. Notice to the clinic network. Request for genetic testing. Request for a temporary order preventing removal of the child from the state until parentage and consent issues are resolved.”
Melinda let out a small sound.
Connor turned on her. “Did you know about this?”
She shook her head quickly, but not convincingly enough.
“Melinda,” I said.
She looked at me then.
For the first time in a year, I saw the girl I had met in college. The one who used to eat cereal out of coffee mugs in my apartment because we were too broke for real bowls. The one who had held my hand when my mother died. The one who knew every private dream I had ever been foolish enough to say aloud.
