“This is highly irregular,” Mira’s lawyer stutters. “We’ve had no notification of this... development. No documentation has been provided. This—this is?—”
“We had planned to inform the court at an appropriate time—relationships are, after all—a private matter,” Jenna says way too smoothly. “But since opposing counsel seems so invested in dissecting my client’s personal life, I thought it might be helpful to share now. Especially since our relationship was exposed online a while ago.”
The judge is watching us carefully, his dark brown eyes moving between our faces, our joined hands, thering.
I want to yelp. Do six foot five tall men yelp?
“Ms. Davis—or should I say Mrs. Kirillov 2.0?” the judge asks.
“Davis professionally, Kirillov personally,” Jenna replies without missing a beat. Fucking fuck. She didn’t lie about watching a lot of movies. This sounds like a Hallmark flick.
“It certainly changes the landscape of our considerations,” judge Brennan says finally. “However, I’ll need this marriage verified, and Child Protective Services will need to conduct a new home evaluation with both of you present. We need a new statement from the child as well.”
“Of course, Your Honor,” Jenna agrees.
“I will needalldocumentation,” he adds, with a hint of superstition.
“As expected, I will send them over,” Jenna says, her confidence sending a shiver down my spine. Where on earth will she find thosedocuments? Is she going insane? She can’t seriously be lying in court like this.
Unlike me, Mira has recovered from her shock and is now whispering furiously to her lawyer, her face flushed with anger. I know that look—it’s the same one she wore when I questioned her about leaving Livy alone. She’s boiling.
“In light of thisnewinformation,” the judge continues. “I’m ordering Child Protective Services to conduct a thorough evaluation of the child’s living situation with both Mr. and... Mrs. Davis-Kirillov present. They will observe and interview Olivia again to assess her comfort in this new family dynamic.”
He checks his calendar. “We’ll reconvene in… four weeks for a follow-up hearing. Until then, the current custody arrangement remains in place, with Mrs. Kirillov… the first?” He clears his throat. “This is getting complicated… with Olivia’s mother having visitation rights until further notice.”
Damn. So, my ex-wife can visit Olivia whenever she pleases?
I glance up at Jenna, silently questioning how we’re supposed to keep up this whole charade. But she’s not looking at me. A slight tremor in her hands tells me that this lie wasn’t easy for her though. She’s fucking nervous.
As people begin to rise and gather their things, Mira storms toward us, Goldblatt trailing behind trying to calm her.
“What kind of stunt is this?” she hisses, keeping her voice low enough that the judge can’t hear as he packs up his bench while shaking his head as if this shit show is too much for him.
Jenna steps slightly and leans in, creating a barrier between Mira and me.
“Not a stunt. Just facts that affect the welfare of your daughter,” Jenna says, her professional smile firmly in place. “We should go,darling. Olivia is waiting.”
Mira’s face contorts with rage, but her lawyer places a restraining hand on her arm, murmuring something about “don’t” and about “reporters outside.” With a last venomous glance, she finally allows herself to be led away, already pulling out her phone—probably to start damage control on her carefully curated social media presence. She’s got a whole fan club there that hates me on behalf of her.
I turn to Jenna, a thousand questions fighting for priority.
“Not here,” she murmurs. “Let’s get Livy and go home. Then we’ll talk.”
Home. As if we share one. As if any of what just happened was real.
But as we walk out of the courtroom, her hand still firmly holding mine for the benefit of anyone watching, I realize that whatever game we’re now playing, it’s one with rules I don’t fully understand. But no matter what, I have to comply. There’s no point of return anymore.
“Will Jenna stay for dinner?”Livy asks once we gothome.
The ride was awkward.
Really awkward and my head has been spinning since Jenna dropped the bomb.
I ignored my phone, knowing it probably exploded with calls, messages, social media shit. I feel Jenna’s gaze burning at me, but I ignore it for now. There’s panic? Or resignation? Well, Mrs. Kirillov the second, we can’t take your brilliant idea back, can we?
“I think Jenna and I need to talk about some grown-up things first,” I say carefully.
“About the case?” Livy asks, and my heart clenches. No six-year-old should be this familiar with legal terminology.
