Debbie’s face grew even more serious, and for a moment she looked far older than her five years. “I feel happy. Really, reallyhappy. Because Daddy chose me, and I choose him, and after today, no one can say we’re not a real family.”
The judge’s professional demeanor cracked completely, her smile breaking free. “Thank you, Miss Deborah. You and Mr. Jamison can return to your seats now.”
As Debbie climbed down from the witness stand, practically glowing, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
She’d been perfect—articulate and honest and so completely her adorably beautiful self.
Judge Williams shuffled through some papers, presumably preparing to make things official, when the back doors of the courtroom burst open with a bang that echoed through the space.
Everyone turned to stare as a woman and man I’d never seen before strode down the center aisle, their footsteps sharp and purposeful. The woman was tall and angular, with graying brown hair pulled back and clothes that screamed “professional disapproval.” The man beside her carried a briefcase and wore the kind of expensive suit that suggested he was very good at his job.
My blood ran cold.
“Your Honor,” the man called out, his voice carrying easily through the suddenly tense courtroom. “I apologize for the interruption, but I believe my client has standing to be heard in this matter.”
Judge Williams’s expression shifted from warm to strictly professional in the span of a heartbeat. “And you are?”
“Robert Kaufman, representing Ms. Linda Trubio. Ms. Trubio is the biological aunt of the minor child and seeks to be heard regarding this adoption proceeding.”
The world tilted sideways.
I had to brace myself on the petitioner’s table.
Aunt Linda.
The one who’d never called, never visited, never shown even the slightest interest in Debbie’s existence. The one I’d never even met.
More importantly, the one Debbie had never met.
“Your Honor”—Sarah was on her feet immediately—“this is highly irregular. Ms. Trubio has had four years to object to my client’s guardianship and has never—”
“And is late to this proceeding,” the judge growled.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Kaufman interrupted smoothly, “my client only recently became aware of these proceedings. She traveled from Montana specifically to address this court and assert her rights as Miss Deborah’s closest living relative.”
Judge Williams stared, a raptor glaring at a herd, as though deciding which was weakest and should become dinner. Her gaze moved between the attorneys before settling on me. I was still gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles had gone white.
“Mr. Kaufman, I’ll allow you to enter the bar and state your client’s position because Georgia law requires such, but I want to be clear—this proceeding has been properly noticed, and any objections should have been filed well in advance.”
“Understood, Your Honor. My client seeks an emergency stay of these proceedings pending a full custody evaluation.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Custody evaluation.
Stay of the proceedings.
They were trying to stop the adoption.
They were trying to take Debbie away from me.
I glanced at Debbie, who was sitting forward in her chair, her tiny arms on the table. She wore a confused expression, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding what was happening. Our eyes met, and she gave me a small smile, trusting that whatever was going on, I would handle it.
That trust nearly broke me.
“Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams addressed the woman who’d remained silent through her attorney’s presentation, “please approach the bench.”
Linda Trubio walked forward with the bearing of someone accustomed to getting her way. She was sworn in and took the witness stand with confidence I found both impressive and terrifying.
