Chapter 7
The custody hearing hurt worse than the business meeting.
Business betrayal was clean compared to children.
Dominic’s attorney argued he deserved access.
Naomi argued supervised visitation only.
She showed the video.
She showed Grace’s statement.
She showed the trust tampering.
Dominic stared at the table.
I stared at my hands.
I had loved those hands once.
The hands that held newborn Grace.
The hands that taught Noah to tie shoes.
The hands that slapped me under chandeliers.
The judge granted temporary supervised visitation.
No overnight stays.
No access to school pickups.
No contact except through a parenting app.
Dominic looked shocked.
As if fatherhood were a title nobody could restrict.
Outside court, he approached me.
Naomi stepped between us.
He looked past her.
“Amelia, please. Don’t turn them against me.”
I felt tired suddenly.
Old tired.
Deep tired.
“I didn’t.”
Grace had turned away because she saw him.
Noah because he felt the absence before he knew the reason.
Children do not need coaching to recognize harm.
That night, Noah climbed into my bed.
He was five.
Sleepy.
Soft-haired.
“Is Daddy bad?”
The question broke me.
I pulled him close.
“Daddy did bad things.”
“Will he stop?”
“I hope so.”
“Can I still love him?”
My throat closed.
“Yes, baby. You can love him. And you can still be safe from him.”
He thought about that.
Then whispered, “I love you more.”
I kissed his hair.
May you like
There are victories that feel like wounds.
That was one.
