That document is void. And its existence is now evidence in a separate matter that I believe opposing counsel’s clients are already aware of.”
Eleanor’s composure cracked for the first time.
Because at the back of the courtroom sat two people she recognized — investigators from the financial crimes unit, there to observe, because the fraud case I’d handed them had grown into something with its own momentum.
The judge restored my full custody within the hour. The surrender was void; it had never had force; my sons were mine and always had been.
But the look on Julian’s face wasn’t about the custody.
It was about the two investigators in the back row.
Because he understood, finally, what the quiet, pregnant wife he’d tried to erase had actually been doing for six months.
I’d let him think I was breaking.
I’d let him think a signature was surrender.
