Chapter 6 - What He Signed
Ruth waited while I read the first page twice.
The petition claimed I was unstable.
Paranoid.
Unable to make safe decisions for myself or my unborn child.
Lucia Moretti wanted temporary authority over my medical care.
The supporting statement came from my ex-husband.
I looked toward the window.
Adrian had stopped moving.
“Tell me that signature is fake.”
He said nothing.
My stomach dropped.
“Adrian.”
“That one is mine.”
I put the folder down carefully.
“What did you sign?”
“A statement six months ago. During the divorce.”
“Saying what?”
He looked at Ruth.
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t ask your lawyer how much truth I can handle.”
Ruth closed her notebook.
He faced me.
“That you’d seemed anxious. That you’d stopped sleeping. That you’d said someone was watching the house.”
“Someone was watching the house.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then. You had cameras on every door.”
He swallowed.
“They said it was for a confidential family assessment.”
“Who said?”
“My attorney. My mother.”
“And you signed.”
“Yes.”
The room felt smaller with every breath.
I’d spent months telling myself Adrian had been fooled.
That there was a version of this in which all he had done was believe the wrong people.
But believing them had required him not to believe me.
“Get out.”
He looked as if I’d struck him.
“Claire—”
“Out.”
Ruth stood.
“I’ll stay, if you want.”
I nodded.
Adrian walked to the door.
He stopped there.
“I’ll withdraw it. Under oath.”
“You should.”
“I will.”
When he left, I finally let myself shake.
Ruth waited.
Then she said, “He can withdraw his statement. That doesn’t erase it. We need your records, the clinic audit trail, and the people who were actually treating you.”
“Can they take my baby?”
“They can ask a court. We’re going to make sure the court hears the truth.”
No promises she couldn’t keep.
I appreciated that.
Outside the glass, Adrian stood alone in the hallway.
His mother called again.
This time, he answered.
I watched him listen.
Then he said something I couldn’t hear.
Lucia arrived forty minutes later in a cream coat and pearl earrings.
She carried a gift bag.
A pink ribbon curled around the handles.
“Claire,” she said when security let her approach the doorway. “You’ve frightened everyone.”
I looked at the bag.
“What’s that?”
“A blanket.”
“For the granddaughter you already arranged to bury?”
Her face didn’t change.
May you like
But she set the bag down.
“Careful, dear,” she said softly. “People are listening.”
