“His mother’s worse.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me the second he showed up.”
“I didn’t know he would.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
I had been hiding from the Collins family so hard that I had half convinced myself hiding was a strategy instead of just fear in nicer clothes.
Maya leaned back and crossed her arms. “We do this smart.”
We.
The word steadied me more than the food had.
That afternoon she called Catherine Albright, a family attorney one of her café regulars had once sworn by during a brutal custody fight. Catherine did a video consult that evening from her office, hair pinned back, eyes sharp, voice calm in the way only truly competent women ever sound.
She asked for dates first.
The date of the divorce.
The estimated conception window.
The due date.
The date of birth.
The discharge status.
Leo’s gestational adjustment.
Then she asked what Ethan had actually said, word for word, as much as I could remember.
I told her everything.
When I finished, she folded her hands and said, “All right. First, don’t panic. This is manageable if you stay disciplined.”
“Manageable,” Maya repeated. “That’s your opening word?”
Catherine almost smiled. “It’s mine because chaos makes people sloppy, and sloppiness loses custody battles.”
My stomach tightened.
She noticed immediately. “I’m not saying you’re in danger of losing your child tomorrow. I’m saying this: from now on, every decision must be made as if a judge might one day read about it in a court file.”
That landed.
“Do I have to agree to the paternity test?” I asked.
“Yes. And you should. Refusing creates suspicion where none needs to exist. But it happens on medical terms, not emotional ones.” She glanced at the notes she had taken. “Your baby is premature. That matters. Stability matters. Limited exposure matters. Your role as his primary caregiver matters. Courts care about demonstrated care, not dramatic family speeches.”
Maya pointed at me. “Tell her the thing about his mother trying to take over.”
I did.
Catherine nodded as if she had expected it. “Classic pressure campaign. They won’t start by trying to seize the baby. They’ll start by offering help. Money. Staff. Caregivers. Specialists. Transportation. The point is not generosity. The point is dependency.”
I thought of Ethan saying, I’ll take care of it all.
The words curdled in my memory.
“What do I do?”