“She depends entirely on Mr.

Whitmore’s corporate salary.

We’re asking the court for joint legal custody of the twins and a managed monthly allowance.”

Daniel Harris sat beside me, his hands resting quietly on top of his black leather briefcase.

He waited three full seconds after Vance sat down before he stood up.

Daniel reached into his suit jacket, took out his silk pocket square, and carefully wiped his gold-rimmed glasses before putting them back on.

“Your Honor,” Daniel said, his voice slow and measured.