Brenda met my eyes. “Be prepared to lose custody today.”
The bailiff opened the doors. “Case of Collins v. Collins. All parties enter.”
CHAPTER 4: PRO SE
The courtroom smelled of lemon polish and broken lives. Ryan sat at the petitioner’s table, surrounded by a high-priced legal team. He wore a custom Italian suit, looking every inch the wounded, responsible father. When I entered, he gave me a smile so smug and so completely without empathy that I felt physically ill.
Judge Harrison—no relation to Noah, just a cruel twist of irony—sat behind the bench with a face carved from stone.
Ryan’s lead attorney, a polished man named Vance, began the slaughter. For an hour, he constructed a convincing portrait of my supposed depravity. He displayed the viral photograph on a large screen.
“Your Honor,” Vance boomed, “this photograph is worth a thousand bank statements. It shows a woman who abandoned her marital vows and her maternal duties to chase the spotlight. And we have the financial records to prove she funded this illicit lifestyle with stolen marital funds.”
He handed the judge the thick bundle of forged wire transfers.
Brenda rose to object, but she was outmatched. She tried arguing that digital records could be manipulated, but Vance quickly countered by demanding proof of such manipulation—proof we didn’t have.
Ryan took the stand. He stared directly at the judge and forced out a single, perfect tear. “I just want my daughter safe, Your Honor. Emily has become erratic. She stole our savings. I fear who she might bring around Lily next.”
I sat at the defense table, shaking with a rage so intense it felt like a physical light burning inside me. For four years, I had allowed this man to define my reality. He had gaslit me, manipulated me, and convinced me I was worthless. Now he was doing the same thing in front of a judge.
Brenda rose for cross-examination. “Mr. Collins, isn’t it true you’re just angry about the divorce?”
“Objection, relevance,” Vance snapped.
“Sustained,” the judge said, looking bored.
Brenda struggled. She didn’t know Ryan. She didn’t understand the precise shape of his lies.
I grabbed Brenda’s arm. “Let me do it,” I hissed.
