“Linda won’t see Noah without my written consent, she’ll never be left alone with my son, and she’ll never set foot in any place where I live.”

“Are you leaving him a way back into your marriage?” my father asked softly.

“He has to build a life that doesn’t require me to live under his mother’s rule,” I said, laying my hand flat on my client folder.

“Until he proves he can do that, my child, my work, and my freedom are off-limits to her.”

My father nodded once, leaning back against the sofa cushion while Noah grunted and stretched both arms toward me across the small gap between our chairs.

Two weeks later, Ethan met me at a quiet corner table in the Oak Ridge Coffee Mill near the center of town.