He is not entirely wrong—I am terrified.

But as the judge leans over his bench, looking at ME with absolute skepticism, he demands to know my REAL MOTIVE.

He asks why a young guy in his prime would willingly sacrifice his entire youth, his finances, and his freedom for five kids who aren’t even his.

The courtroom goes silent.

I look at the oldest boy, who is quietly wiping his little sister’s tears.

I take a deep breath, step up to the microphone, and tell the judge the real reason I’m doing this—a TRUTH I’ve never told a single soul, not even my closest friends.

PART 2

The hallway outside Courtroom Four smelled of floor polish and damp coats.

I had been there since eight that morning, long before the clerk unlocked the doors.

My lawyer, Victoria, had told me to arrive early, wear a tie, and bring every document I could find.

So I carried bank statements, photographs of the renovated rooms, a schedule written in my untidy carpenter’s handwriting, and receipts for five car seats.

Across the hall, the children were arranged on a bench that was far too short for their worries.

Lucas was six and had already learned to watch the doors before watching the people who passed through them.

Mia, three, leaned against his shoulder.