My husband pushed me down the stairs, and as I lay shattered at the bottom, my mother-in-law called my father and said, “Come get your worthless daughter and take her back.” Dad gave her only one warning: “If she has so much as a scratch, your family will answer for it.” They laughed at him because they had absolutely no idea who my father truly was.
The Story Continues After Part 2
“The motion was filed electronically by a firm representing your husband’s family,” Gabriel explained carefully.
“It asks for temporary emergency custody of your daughter, supervised visitation for you, and an evaluation of your mental fitness.”
My fingers tightened around the hospital blanket until my knuckles turned white.
“Where is Lily?” I asked.
Gabriel’s expression changed.
The sharpness in his eyes remained, but his voice softened.
“We are finding out.
Your father is outside speaking with the hospital social worker.
I need you to tell me who last had your daughter.”
“Martin took her to his mother’s house before dinner.
He said I was too upset to put her to bed.”
Lily was five.
She still called every dandelion a wishing flower.
When frightened, she looked for my hand before she looked for anyone else.
I remembered the yellow cardigan she had worn that morning, its sleeves rolled twice because she refused to let me give it away.
Gabriel made one note.
“We won’t guess or rush.
