Chapter 4
The first restraining order hearing was two weeks later.
I sat at the plaintiff’s table in a stiff black dress, Arthur at my side.
Eleanor sat across the room.
She was in a jail jumpsuit now. No silk dress. No perfect hair. Her hands were cuffed to the table. She glared at me like she could burn a hole right through my chest.
Her lawyer was a slick man in a tailored suit who smiled too much.
He stood up first.
“Your Honor,” he said. “This is all a misunderstanding. My client is a loving grandmother who only wanted what was best for her grandchild. The phone my client supposedly left? Planted. The messages? Forged. Mrs. Voss-Hale is a wealthy, bitter woman who will do anything to keep her husband from his own mother.”
Arthur stood up.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t gesture. He just laid the evidence out one by one, slow and steady.
First, the phone.
“Forensics confirmed the device belongs to Eleanor Voss,” he said. “Fingerprints. Passcode history. Cloud backups. Every message is verified authentic. No forgery. No planting.”
Then the embezzlement records.
“Twelve million dollars,” Arthur said. “Diverted over three years. Every transfer traces back to accounts controlled by Ms. Voss. We have bank statements. Witness testimony from the company’s CFO. Even Ms. Voss’s own son has testified she forced him to sign documents he didn’t understand.”
He turned to the judge.
“Your Honor,” he said. “This woman didn’t just steal money. She conspired to steal a child. To destroy a young mother’s reputation so she could take her baby and her fortune. If she is released, there is no doubt in my mind she will try again. She has already proven she will stop at nothing.”
The judge looked at Eleanor.
“Ms. Voss,” she said. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Eleanor stood up.
She straightened her jumpsuit like she was still wearing that silk dress.
“Your Honor,” she said. Her voice was smooth, like she was giving a speech at a country club. “I am a sixty-two-year-old grandmother. I have never hurt anyone in my life. That girl—” she pointed at me “—she turned my own son against me. She manipulated him. She’s been after my family’s name since the day she married James. All of this is a lie to get rid of me so she can have everything to herself.”
James was in the back of the courtroom.
He stood up.
“That’s not true,” he said. His voice was loud. Clear. “She’s lying. Everything she says is a lie. She told me Clara cheated. She made me go along with it. She threatened to disown me if I didn’t. She’s been controlling me my whole life.”
Eleanor spun around.
“Traitor!” she screamed. “You ungrateful little boy! After everything I did for you!”
“Order!” the judge banged her gavel. “Order in this court!”
Eleanor sat down. She was seething.
The judge read over the papers for five long minutes.
Then she looked up.
“Based on the evidence presented,” she said. “I am granting the plaintiff a permanent restraining order against Eleanor Voss. No contact. No third-party contact. No coming within five hundred feet of Mrs. Voss-Hale, her residence, her place of business, or her unborn child. Violation of this order will result in immediate additional charges and no bail.”
She turned to Eleanor.
“Your trial is set for three months from now. You will remain in custody until then. Bail is denied. You are too great a flight risk and too great a danger to the community.”
Eleanor screamed again.
The bailiffs pulled her out.
She yelled my name over and over, cursing me, promising she’d get out, promising she’d take my son.
I didn’t flinch.
I sat there, my hand on my belly, and let her words wash over me.
They didn’t hurt anymore.
After the hearing, James caught me by the elevator.
“Clara,” he said. “I meant what I said in there. I’m done letting her control me. Whatever you need. Whatever the lawyers need. I’m there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
It was the first kind thing I’d said to him since the baby shower.
He smiled. A small, sad smile.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. He glanced at my belly, like he was scared to look too long.
“Good,” I said. “Tired. But good. The doctor says he’s strong.”
James’s eyes glistened.
“Can I—” he stopped. Swallowed. “Can I feel him kick? Just once? If it’s okay.”
I hesitated.
Then I nodded.
I took his hand. I placed it on the side of my belly, right where he’d been kicking all morning.
We stood there for a full minute.
Then my son kicked.
Hard.
James gasped.
He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Then he put it back, softer this time.
“Wow,” he whispered. “He’s so strong. Just like his mom.”
A tear ran down his cheek.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said. “I’m going to be there for him. I swear it. Every step of the way.”
The elevator dinged.
I pulled my hand away.
“I have to go,” I said. “First day as CEO tomorrow.”
James nodded.
“You’re going to be amazing,” he said. “Your dad would be so proud.”
I stepped into the elevator.
As the doors closed, I saw him still standing there, his hand hovering over his own stomach like he could still feel the kick.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel angry.
I felt something else.
May you like
Something small.
Something like hope.
