“His defense lawyer had him sign it in the magistrate’s office twenty minutes ago,” Miller said, taking the signed pages and placing them neatly in his leather folder.

“He knew if he fought the custody order, federal marshals would seize every last asset in his name by lunchtime.”

I got up from the oak chair and picked up the blue plastic infant carrier, where Noah lay sound asleep, wrapped in his yellow fleece blanket.

Chloe walked beside me as we pushed through the heavy double oak doors into the main rotunda of the courthouse.

“You gave him a way to stay in his son’s life,” Chloe said as our footsteps echoed off the high marble walls.