dinner for three. He knew how to tell when Nora was about to panic because her left foot started tapping first.
He did not know how to fight someone who could turn money into evidence.
Celeste’s lawyer stood and buttoned his jacket.
“Your Honor, this is not a question of affection. Mr. Reyes loves his children. No one disputes that. But affection cannot substitute for stability. My client can provide private schooling, medical care, tutors, therapy, secure transportation, and a consistent home environment. Mr. Reyes lives in a one-bedroom apartment above a commercial laundromat and works unpredictable hours around heavy machinery.”
Daniel stared at the table.
He had known the words were coming. They still landed like blows.
The lawyer continued. “We also have concerns about emotional volatility. The children have returned from his care withdrawn, anxious, and resistant. Mrs. Wainwright has observed nightmares, food hoarding, and signs of distress after visits.”
Mason’s fingers tightened.
Food hoarding.
That was Nora hiding crackers under her pillow after weekends at Celeste’s house, because Celeste believed snacks made children undisciplined and once took away dinner when Nora cried too loudly.
Withdrawn.
That was Mason refusing to answer Celeste’s questions in the car because every answer turned into a test.
Anxious.
That was both of them hearing the click of Celeste’s bracelet before she entered a room.
Daniel’s attorney, a tired woman from a legal aid office, rose carefully. “Mr. Reyes contests those characterizations. He has complied with every visitation order. He has provided school records, medical records, and statements from neighbors and teachers describing both children as comfortable and secure in his care.”
Celeste dabbed at the corner of her eye with a folded tissue.
“I wish Daniel would stop making this a war,” she said softly. “I have never wanted to punish him. I simply want our children to have the life they deserve.”
The judge, Harold Brenner, looked over the file. He was an older man with careful eyes and a habit of removing his glasses before asking a question that mattered.
“Mr. Reyes,” he said, “you have alleged mistreatment in Mrs. Wainwright’s home, but so far the court has seen no admissible proof.”
Daniel swallowed. “Because everyone who sees it works for her.”
Celeste’s mouth curved faintly.
It lasted less than a second.
Mason saw it anyway.
The smile was not meant for the judge. It was meant for Daniel. It said what Celeste had been saying for months without words.
No one believes men like you.
The judge tapped his pen. “Mr. Reyes, I understand this is painful. But accusations without support cannot guide custody.”
Daniel’s voice roughened. “She locks Nora away when she cries. She tells Mason I’m going to make them poor and sick. She told him if he chooses me, he’ll ruin my life.”
Celeste’s lawyer rose immediately. “Objection. Inflammatory.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “We will proceed in an orderly manner.”
Nora had stopped moving entirely. Her small body had gone stiff beside Mason. He reached for her hand under the bench. Her fingers were cold.
For three weeks, Celeste had prepared Mason for this hearing.
At first she had been sweet. She showed him the bedroom she said would be his if he chose correctly. It had a desk facing the mountains, a television bigger
