The courtroom smelled of old wood, worn carpet, and outdated air conditioning.
I sat there, my hands clenched so tightly my knuckles had turned white, feeling as though the room itself had seen too many broken families to care about one more.
Across the aisle, my ex-husband, Daniel Carter, sat composed and polished in his tailored suit, every detail carefully chosen to present himself as the reasonable father everyone was supposed to see.
Beside him, his lawyer, Victor Langford, moved with confidence as he addressed the judge.
Voir la suite dans la page suivante:
