Chương 5
“Dad.”
He looked offended.
“Fine.”
I held on.
“No generals.”
“No generals.”
“No colonels.”
“Claire.”
“No colonels.”
“No intelligence people.”
He stared at me.
“You think I keep intelligence people in a closet?”
“I grew up with you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No intelligence people.”
He sighed again.
“No intelligence people.”
I released his sleeve.
He bent over the baby before leaving.
For a few seconds, his hard expression disappeared.
“Your grandmother would have liked you,” he whispered.
Then he straightened.
At the door, he looked back at me.
“Make the report.”
“Even if he apologizes.”
I looked down at the fading red reflection of my own cheek in the dark phone screen.
“Yes.”
Dad left.
Marisol sat in the chair he had vacated.
She did not ask whether I was all right.
Instead, she handed me a cup of ice water.
“You married to him long?”
“Thirteen years.”
She nodded as if that explained both everything and nothing.
Then she glanced at my son.
“What’s his name?”
I looked at the baby.
David and I had argued over names for months.
He wanted David Junior.
I had refused.
Eventually we had settled on Nathaniel Robert Mercer.
Nathan for short.
Robert for my father.
Mercer because that was the family name.
Now even that felt unstable.
“Nathan,” I said.
Marisol smiled.
“That suits him.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from David appeared.
You are making the biggest mistake of your life.
Another followed.
When the test proves that kid isn’t mine, everybody will know what you are.
Then a third.
And your father can’t save you.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Marisol leaned over.
“Don’t delete those.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
She rose to check Nathan’s bracelet.
I took screenshots anyway.
Not because I thought David would delete the messages.
Because for the first time in thirteen years, I was no longer trusting tomorrow’s version of him to explain today’s version away.
Another notification appeared.
This one was from an unknown number.
Mrs. Mercer, my name is Patricia Wynn.
Your father asked me to contact you.
I am a family-law attorney in Alexandria.
Please do not respond to your husband about custody until we speak.
I looked toward the empty doorway where Dad had stood with his ridiculous teddy bear and his classified phone.
For years, I had kept his world separate from mine because I wanted an ordinary marriage.
Now the marriage was cracking open, and the first thing exposed underneath it was not my father’s power.
It was everything I had spent years pretending was normal.
Patricia called before I had decided whether I was ready to hear a stranger explain my marriage in legal vocabulary.
Her voice was lower than I expected, almost sleepy, though every question arrived sharp enough to cut.
“Are you physically safe right now?”
“Yes.”
“Are the children physically safe?”
“My father is going to the house.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I looked at Nathan’s face.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Paper rustled on her end.
“Your father gave me almost no details.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He did mention you gave birth today.”
“Yes.”
“And your husband struck you in the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Open hand or closed fist?”
“Open.”
“Any other physical contact?”
“No.”
“Any prior violence?”
I hesitated.
Patricia let the silence sit.
“He punched a door once.”
“Near you?”
“I was in the kitchen.”
“Were the children present?”
“Emma was.”
“How old was she?”
“Ten.”
“Anything else?”
“He’s thrown things.”
“At you?”
“No.”
“Broken things?”
“A lamp.”
“Threatened you?”
“Not before today.”
Another pause.
“What did he threaten today?”
“To divorce me.”
“That’s not legally significant by itself.”
“To take the girls.”
“That is.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“He called Nathan a bastard.”
Patricia’s tone changed slightly.
“Who is Nathan?”
“My son.”
“The newborn?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband believes he isn’t the father.”
“He says he does.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“That question was intentionally stupid.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“I wanted to hear how quickly you answered.”
For the first time all day, I disliked somebody who was technically helping me.
“I’m exhausted.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean I am physically exhausted.”
“Then I’ll keep this practical.”
I appreciated that more.
She asked me to photograph my cheek in good light, save every message, avoid discussing paternity or custody by text, and make the police report while the hospital staff who witnessed the aftermath were still available.
She did not promise me custody.
She did not promise me an emergency order.
She did not say David had ruined his life.
She said judges cared about facts, documentation, patterns, and children’s safety.
It sounded disappointingly ordinary.
That steadied me.
“What about the girls tonight?”
“Your father can stay with them?”
“Yes.”
“Does your husband have access to the house?”
“Of course.”
“Keys?”
“Yes.”
“Garage code?”
“Yes.”
“Smart lock?”
“Front door.”
“Change what you can without destroying evidence or violating anything jointly owned.”
“I don’t know how to change the garage code.”
“Then don’t learn tonight.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What am I supposed to tell my daughters?”
“That is not legal advice.”
“Great.”
“It is parenting.”
“Even better.”
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
“Tell them enough truth that they don’t have to invent a worse one.”
I looked down at Nathan.
His mouth had fallen open in sleep.
“I don’t even know what the truth is yet.”
“Yes, you do.”
Her answer irritated me.
“No, I don’t.”
“You know he hit you.”
I said nothing.
“You know he frightened the children.”
Silence.
“You know he accused you of infidelity in front of a newborn he had not known for five minutes.”
My throat tightened.
“That is already enough truth for tonight.”
A knock interrupted us.
A uniformed officer stepped into the room after Marisol admitted him.
He introduced himself as Officer Daniel Cho and waited while I ended the call.
May you like
Patricia made me promise to call her before signing anything related to custody.
I promised mostly because it seemed easier than arguing.
