Janie stared at the wood grain of the table blankly, vindicated but exposed at the same time, like the judge was protecting her but only because she couldn’t do it for herself.
David stood. “Your Honor, at this time we move to dismiss the petition in its entirety for lack of standing and failure to state a claim.”
Janie’s breath snagged, and Hannah pressed her leg harder against Janie’s.
“Granted,” Judge Morrison said.
Just like that. The word echoed in Janie’s head, searching for understanding. Could it actually be over?
“Under Illinois law,” Judge Morrison continued, “a non-parent seeking custody must establish standing by clear andconvincing evidence of parental unfitness or extraordinary circumstances. The petitioner has done neither. Both parents are present and are fit. And I believe the children are safe.”
The judge’s statement wrapped around Janie like a blanket, and she warmed in its comfort. In a court of law, she was being pronounced fit and safe.
“Furthermore, there is no evidence of abuse, neglect, abandonment, or incapacity.”
“Your Honor,” Bradford said, “we would request that the full custody hearing?—”
“There will be no full custody hearing,” Judge Morrison said, sounding more and more irritated with the lawyer. “The petition is dismissed with prejudice.”
The room tilted. Janie exhaled, the sound torn from somewhere deep and fragile. She pressed her forehead to Hannah’s shoulder, just long enough to remind herself that this was real, and it wasn’t a beautiful dream where she and Hannah won, and her mother failed.
“Let me be clear for the record.”
Janie looked up, her heart jumping into her mouth. Was there a but?
“This action was brought under the guise of concern.” Judge Morrison adjusted her glasses. “But the evidence establishes an improper purpose. Filing an emergency petition without factual basis is a serious abuse of this court’s process. Mental health stigma has no place in custody litigation.”
Tears gathered behind Janie’s eyes, uninvited once more, but she didn’t fight them.
“The court further orders that the petitioner is barred from filing any future custody or visitation actions regarding these children without prior leave of court.”
A soft sound rippled through the gallery. It wasn’t applause, not quite, but Janie could almost feel the desire of her gathered friends to shout out in celebration.
The judge looked directly at Janie’s mother. “These childrenare not leverage. They are not assets. And they are not a trust instrument.” She brought down her gavel. “Court is adjourned,” she said and swept out of the courtroom.
For a moment, Janie stayed where she was, her fingers laced with Hannah’s, breathing in and out like she’d been taught. Behind them, their family buzzed quietly. They were the people who’d believed in them when they could barely believe in themselves, and Janie would never forget that.
She was still shaking when Hannah leaned close. “See? We’re good parents. The judge said it.”
Janie’s breath hitched. She wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to believe it. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, then up at Hannah, who’d stood by her through all of this. “I was so scared,” she whispered.
“I know.” Hannah’s thumb traced circles against her palm. “But you’re still here. Our babies are still ours. We’re going to be okay.”
The weight began to lift from Janie’s chest. Not all of it, and maybe it never would, but enough to breathe. Enough to hope. “I love you,” she said.
Hannah’s eyes shimmered. “I love you too.”
Around them, the courtroom was emptying. David and their friends were standing, probably waiting to embrace them. But for just this moment, it was only the two of them. They’d built their perfect little family, and they’d survived the darkness of the past few months. They’d fought her mother, and they’d won. Janie was battling with herself and maybe she could say she was winning sometimes too.
She rose, her legs unsteady, and Hannah pulled her close. Over Hannah’s shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s rigid back as she left, with Bradford trailing behind her. There was no satisfaction or triumph in that, only a quiet, exhausted relief.
“Come on,” Hannah murmured against her hair. “Let’s go home to our babies.”
Home. To the chaos, and the sleepless nights, and the tiny hands that reached for her. The life they’d made together, messy and imperfect, was hers again.
CHAPTER 25
Janie was barelyvisible over the stacks of discovery documents for the AI copyright case. She had a share of thousands of pages of training data logs, licensing agreements, and technical specifications to comb through, and her eyes had started to blur around page three hundred of the first pile.
