Chapter 8
Marcus Reed places a divorce petition on the left side of his desk and my notes about Ethan on the right.
Two stacks of paper. One marriage. One child I have raised for six years and may have no right to see again.
“Tell me which matters first,” he says.
“Ethan.”
The answer is immediate. Having to choose still hurts.
Marcus speaks quietly and reads every page before answering. He has reviewed the school forms, appointment records, and messages I brought.
“You have done a great deal of parenting,” he says. “But you never adopted him, and Lucas never gave you legal guardianship.”
“Because we were married. We never thought—”
I stop.
Lucas thought about it. He knew what my lack of legal status meant when he changed the emergency contact and closed the treatment-room door.
I trusted marriage to make the paperwork unnecessary. He trusted the missing paperwork to keep the decision in his hands.
Marcus folds his hands. “You can ask Lucas to agree to continued contact. If he refuses, we can still make a request. I need you to understand that the court usually gives a fit parent control over who sees his child.”
“So six years count for nothing?”
“They count to Ethan. That doesn’t automatically give you parental rights.”
My eyes burn. I look down at the notes in my handwriting: inhaler replacements, school conferences, the name of the dentist Ethan trusts, the foods he will eat when he is sick.
I kept the list in our kitchen for years. Even now, part of me is preparing to keep Ethan safe from a distance.
“What would I have to prove?”
“That ending contact would seriously harm Ethan, or that Lucas is not caring for him properly. From what you’ve told me, Lucas has made a cruel decision. That is not the same as being legally unfit.”
I close my eyes.
I believed that if I gathered every fever, appointment, and night Ethan came to me after a nightmare, someone would add them together and call me his mother.
There is no form for that.
Marcus waits until I look at him again. “We can try. I just don’t want you to build your safety around winning.”
“I’m not worried about my safety.”
“You should be.” He touches the divorce petition. “You came here because your husband has begun using your home, your work, and Ethan to control what you will accept.”
I almost defend Lucas and tell Marcus he does not understand our marriage. The habit frightens me.
Then I remember Lucas saying I would calm down. I remember Daphne’s key, my boxes in the garage, and Ethan lowering his hand behind the glass.
Marcus understands enough.
“If I stay married,” I ask, “does that give me any right to see Ethan?”
“No. Lucas can still limit contact. Marriage does not make you Ethan’s legal parent.”
My hand closes around Ethan’s notes. I have been treating marriage as proof Lucas cannot shut me out, even though he already has. Staying will not restore my place in Ethan’s life. It will teach Lucas that taking him away is enough to keep me obedient.
I slide the notes aside and pull the divorce petition toward me.
Marcus turns it to the signature page but does not hand me the pen. “You don’t have to decide today.”
I take my own pen from my bag.
My hand trembles when I write Kate Morrison. I pause after the final letter, looking at the name I had before Lucas and kept even after marrying him.
Then I sign the request asking Lucas to allow continued contact with Ethan.
Lucas may refuse, and a court may not help me. My pen remains in my hand.
“I’ll try for Ethan,” I tell Marcus. “But I won’t trade the rest of my life for the chance to love him.”