How much does she know?
What did I miss?
That was the first mini-payoff.
Not a victory.
Not yet.
Just the pleasure of watching a man realize the floor beneath him was not marble.
It was thin ice.
Savannah leaned forward and whispered, “Marcus, do something.”
The microphone caught that too.
My father’s pen stopped.
Marcus heard it.
Bennett heard it.
Savannah did not.
She was too used to rooms rearranging themselves around her.
My father set down the proposed order.
“Mr. Ashford, why would your client require approval over Mrs. Vale’s obstetrician?”
Bennett exhaled slowly.
“Given Mrs. Vale’s mental state—”
“Evidence.”
“Your Honor, we have affidavits from household staff describing erratic behavior.”
Claire laughed under her breath.
Judge Whitmore looked at her.
She stopped.
But barely.
Bennett opened one of his binders.
“On April 21st, Mrs. Vale was observed crying in the pantry. On April 28th, she was observed sitting on the floor of the nursery for over an hour. On May 2nd, she refused dinner with Mr. Vale’s investors and locked herself in the guest bedroom.”
He said each sentence as if grief were a felony.
I felt heat rise in my throat.
Not anger.
Memory.
April 21st was the day I found Savannah’s ultrasound.
April 28th was the day Marcus ordered the nursery repainted from sage green to white because Savannah said green was “too farmhouse.”
May 2nd was the night Marcus invited investors to our dining room and let one of them make a joke about “starter wives” while I sat eight feet away carrying his child.
I did not cry then.
I would not cry now.
Claire stood.
“Your Honor, the staff affidavits were obtained by Mr. Vale’s head of domestic operations, who reports directly to Mr. Vale’s executive assistant. We have not had the opportunity to depose these individuals.”
Bennett said, “This is a temporary hearing.”
Claire said, “Then perhaps counsel should stop attempting a permanent character assassination.”
My father’s mouth moved slightly.
Not a smile.
Almost.
Then Savannah made her second mistake.
She spoke.
“Maybe if Emily cared about the baby, she wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.”
Every head turned.
Marcus closed his eyes for half a second.
Bennett looked like a man watching a priceless vase fall in slow motion.
Judge Whitmore looked at Savannah.
“State your name for the record.”
