Chapter 8
I forwarded the bank statements to Dominic immediately.
His response: *"Dissipation of marital assets during divorce proceedings. He just handed us the case. Don't worry about money. I'm covering all legal costs."*
I started to type a refusal — I didn't want charity — but a second message came.
*"Don't argue with me on this, Lily. Please."*
That single "please" contained something I wasn't ready to examine.
The next morning, Dominic arrived with breakfast for me, Harper, and baby formula he'd clearly researched extensively based on the detailed label comparisons printed out in his briefcase.
Harper raised an eyebrow at me. I ignored her.
"Ryan's attorney filed a counter-motion," Dominic said, setting down coffee. "They're claiming parental alienation and arguing that Sienna was acting as a licensed caregiver."
"She doesn't have a childcare license," I said.
"No. She doesn't." Dominic's smile was thin and dangerous. "They're also requesting a psychological evaluation of you."
There it was. Ryan's final play — the same card he'd tried in the hospital.
"Let them," I said.
Dominic looked at me with something like pride. "The evaluator is independent, court-appointed. You'll pass without question. And when you do, their entire case collapses."
He was right. I knew I was not unstable. The only unstable thing about me was my choice in first husbands.
The evaluation was scheduled for the following week. In the meantime, I focused on Leo — on learning his rhythms, his sounds, the way he curled his fist around my finger like an anchor.
I also started noticing things about Dominic.
The way he always stood between me and any door. The way he texted every morning at exactly 7 a.m.: *"How did Leo sleep?"* The way he remembered that I couldn't drink coffee yet because I was breastfeeding, and brought chamomile tea instead.
One evening, he was reviewing case documents at Harper's kitchen table while I walked Leo in slow circles around the living room.
Harper had gone out. The apartment was quiet.
"You don't have to do this," I said softly. "The pro bono work. The house calls. I know you have other clients."
Dominic didn't look up from his papers. "You're my only client right now."
"That can't be true."
He set down his pen. Finally looked at me.
"It's been true since Harper called me that night," he said. "Everything else got reassigned."
My heart did something inconvenient.
"Dominic—"
"You should rest," he said, returning to his papers. "The evaluation is Tuesday."
The moment passed. But it didn't disappear.
That night, Harper came home and found me staring at the ceiling.
"You're falling for my brother," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I just got out of a marriage where my husband gave my baby to his ex-girlfriend," I said. "I'm not falling for anyone."
Harper snorted. "Sure. And my brother clears his entire caseload for all his clients."
I threw a pillow at her.
But I didn't deny it again.
His response: *"Dissipation of marital assets during divorce proceedings. He just handed us the case. Don't worry about money. I'm covering all legal costs."*
I started to type a refusal — I didn't want charity — but a second message came.
*"Don't argue with me on this, Lily. Please."*
That single "please" contained something I wasn't ready to examine.
The next morning, Dominic arrived with breakfast for me, Harper, and baby formula he'd clearly researched extensively based on the detailed label comparisons printed out in his briefcase.
Harper raised an eyebrow at me. I ignored her.
"Ryan's attorney filed a counter-motion," Dominic said, setting down coffee. "They're claiming parental alienation and arguing that Sienna was acting as a licensed caregiver."
"She doesn't have a childcare license," I said.
"No. She doesn't." Dominic's smile was thin and dangerous. "They're also requesting a psychological evaluation of you."
There it was. Ryan's final play — the same card he'd tried in the hospital.
"Let them," I said.
Dominic looked at me with something like pride. "The evaluator is independent, court-appointed. You'll pass without question. And when you do, their entire case collapses."
He was right. I knew I was not unstable. The only unstable thing about me was my choice in first husbands.
The evaluation was scheduled for the following week. In the meantime, I focused on Leo — on learning his rhythms, his sounds, the way he curled his fist around my finger like an anchor.
I also started noticing things about Dominic.
The way he always stood between me and any door. The way he texted every morning at exactly 7 a.m.: *"How did Leo sleep?"* The way he remembered that I couldn't drink coffee yet because I was breastfeeding, and brought chamomile tea instead.
One evening, he was reviewing case documents at Harper's kitchen table while I walked Leo in slow circles around the living room.
Harper had gone out. The apartment was quiet.
"You don't have to do this," I said softly. "The pro bono work. The house calls. I know you have other clients."
Dominic didn't look up from his papers. "You're my only client right now."
"That can't be true."
He set down his pen. Finally looked at me.
"It's been true since Harper called me that night," he said. "Everything else got reassigned."
My heart did something inconvenient.
"Dominic—"
"You should rest," he said, returning to his papers. "The evaluation is Tuesday."
The moment passed. But it didn't disappear.
That night, Harper came home and found me staring at the ceiling.
"You're falling for my brother," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I just got out of a marriage where my husband gave my baby to his ex-girlfriend," I said. "I'm not falling for anyone."
Harper snorted. "Sure. And my brother clears his entire caseload for all his clients."
I threw a pillow at her.
But I didn't deny it again.