The courthouse buzzed with too many voices, too many cameras, too many stares.

Everyone had an opinion.

No one had the truth.

Adrian squeezed my hand as we entered. His jaw was tight. His suit was darker than usual. Almost funereal.

Vanessa walked ahead of us, briefcase in one hand, printed affidavits in the other. She was all steel and certainty—until we reached the double doors.

Then she stopped and turned.

“This is not about the baby anymore,” she said. “This is about power. ...