It was a carefully timed financial countdown to the day Grant took our daughter away for good.

Grant had designed the whole agreement to look like a bridge while he was quietly building a cliff.

Whatever faith I still had that Grant was capable of an honest compromise disappeared completely.

I bent over the paper, pressing my thumb to the inside of my wrist as I stared at the dense block of legal language.

I lifted the red ballpoint pen off the table.

I set the steel tip against the paper right next to clause forty-two.