Chapter 8
The papers came two weeks later.
Eleanor Wright was filing for full custody of Liam.
Her lawyer had drafted a document that painted me as an unfit mother. It said I was financially unstable, that I'd been working excessive hours while pregnant, that I had no family support system.
It said Logan was an absentee father who'd abandoned his responsibilities, that he had a history of running from his problems.
It said Robert was an enabler who'd been neglecting his own family for decades, that he was in no position to help raise a child.
And it said Eleanor was the only one who could provide Liam with a "stable, nurturing environment" and the "advantages that come with being part of the Wright family."
Reading it made me sick.
"We'll fight this," Logan said, his jaw tight with anger. "Every word of it is a lie."
Robert nodded, already on the phone with a lawyer he knew. "We have a strong case. You've been an excellent mother, Joanna. Logan has stepped up and been present since he found out. And I'm willing to testify to all of it."
But the days that followed were harder than any I'd ever known.
Eleanor's lawyer dug into every aspect of my life. My job at the diner. The tiny room I'd rented after Logan left. My bank statements, which showed how little I'd been living on.
They interviewed my old neighbors, my boss at the diner, anyone who might say something negative about me.
They even brought up my mother's death, suggesting that I hadn't properly grieved and that it had affected my ability to care for others.
It felt like my whole life was being picked apart, twisted, and presented in the worst possible light.
Logan was subjected to the same treatment. His absence from his family for two years was presented as proof of his instability. His lack of a steady job—he'd been picking up freelance photography work since he came back—was used to show he couldn't provide.
And Eleanor?
She presented herself as a grieving mother who'd finally found hope again in her grandson. She cried in interviews, talking about Matthew, about how Liam was her second chance at happiness.
The newspapers even picked up the story. A local tabloid ran a headline: "GRIEF-STRICKEN GRANDMOTHER FIGHTS FOR CUSTODY OF 'MIRACLE' BABY."
It was all lies. But it was convincing lies.
The stress was unbearable. I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating. I'd sit up for hours at night, just watching Liam breathe, terrified that I'd wake up and he'd be gone.
Logan was my rock.
He held me when I cried. He made me eat when I didn't want to. He'd take Liam for walks so I could rest, singing to him softly as they went out the door.
"I'm not going anywhere," he'd say, over and over. "We're going to get through this. Together."
One night, after a particularly brutal day of depositions, I found him sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city.
I sat down beside him, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
He was quiet for a long time.
"I hate what she's doing to you," he said finally, his voice raw. "To all of us. My own mother… using the worst parts of my past against me. Against you."
He turned to look at me, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.
"I meant what I said, Joanna. I'm not running this time. Not from you. Not from Liam. Not from any of this."
He reached out and touched my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized I'd shed.
"I love you," he said, his voice trembling. "I never stopped. Not even when I was being an idiot and running from everything good in my life."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and I knew.
I knew that the man sitting beside me wasn't the same scared boy who'd run away seven months ago. He was stronger now. Braver. He'd faced his demons and come back better for it.
"I love you too," I whispered.
He leaned in and kissed me, and for the first time in months, I felt like everything might actually be okay.
But the battle was far from over.
The trial date was set for three weeks later.
And Eleanor Wright had one more card to play. One that would hit us where it hurt most.
Robert came home from the hospital one day, his face ashen.
"She's going to bring up Matthew's death," he said, his voice shaking. "She's going to testify that the same thing could happen to Liam. That I'm cursed. That our whole family is cursed. And that she's the only one who can protect him."
He looked at us, his eyes filled with a grief that had never fully healed.
"She's going to tell the court that Matthew died because of me. Because I wasn't paying attention. Because I was too busy with work. And she's going to say that if Liam stays with us, the same thing will happen to him."
The room went cold.
May you like
Eleanor wasn't just fighting for custody.
She was fighting to destroy us all.
