The courtroom felt colder than usual that morning.
I sat at the wooden table, my hands folded tightly together, trying to keep them from trembling. At seventy-three, I’d been through a lot in life—loss, hard work, long nights of worry—but nothing had prepared me for the fear of losing the two boys who meant everything to me.
Across the room sat Vanessa.
My daughter-in-law.
Or rather, the woman who used to be.
Her hair was styled perfectly, her suit expensive, her posture confident. Beside her sat her lawyer, flipping through a thick folder of papers.
