“She’s my ex-wife,” Julian snapped.

“And the child?”

Eleanor grabbed Julian’s arm. “Enough. We’re leaving. Our lawyer will handle this.”

“Good,” I said. “Bring him.”

They both turned.

I reached for my hospital bag and pulled out the folder. Not the original from under my mattress—a copy. The originals were already with my attorney.

Julian saw the printed emails first.

His face drained.