Chapter 3 - The Lawyer My Mother Never Mentioned
I read the message twice.
MARTIN: Did he leave?
DIANE: Yes. Store. Twenty minutes.
MARTIN: You need privacy for the photos.
DIANE: I got him alone. He never puts the camera on upstairs.
My fingers went cold.
"Photos of what?"
Diane looked at the floor.
"Mom. Photos of what?"
"It isn't what you think."
"I don't know what to think. That's the problem."
I scrolled higher.
There were references to sleep schedules, formula, missed pediatric appointments that had never been missed, and comments about my "instability." One line made my jaw lock.
MARTIN: If the house shows neglect, it supports emergency placement.
Emergency placement.
I looked at Diane.
"You were building a custody case against me?"
She shook her head too fast. "Temporary guardianship. That's different."
"You hired a lawyer to take my son."
"To protect him."
"From me?"
"From grief."
The word came out sharp.
"You don't sleep. You forget to eat. You stare at Claire's side of the bed for hours. You can't keep living like this."
"So you photograph my house?"
"I document reality."
"You stage reality."
She flinched.
That was enough.
"What did you stage?"
"Nothing."
"Mom."
"Nothing dangerous."
The room went still.
Nothing dangerous.
Not nothing.
I thought of the bottles I had found left on the counter. The laundry suddenly piled beside the bassinet. The smoke detector battery that disappeared and somehow ended up on the nursery floor. Each time, Diane had gently suggested I was forgetting things.
I had believed her.
Because I was tired.
Because Claire was dead.
Because I wanted someone to tell me I wasn't losing my mind.
Instead, someone had been helping me believe I was.
"Get your coat," I said.
"Evan—"
"You're leaving."
Her face hardened. "If you throw me out tonight, Martin files tomorrow morning."
I froze.
She looked at Noah, then back at me.
May you like
"And when the judge sees the photographs," she said, "you may not get him back."
The Message on Grandma's Phone
