I never told my mother-in-law I was a judge. To her, I was just a kept woman on unemployment. Hours after my C-section, she burst into my room with adoption papers, mocking me: “You don’t deserve a VIP room. Give one of the twins to my infertile daughter; you can’t handle two.” I hugged my babies and pressed the panic button. When the police arrived, she screamed that I was crazy. They proceeded to restrain me… until the chief recognized me…

I reached for the water pitcher and poured myself a glass, with a firm hand.

“Mark, you knew about this plan. You knew she was coming here to intimidate me into signing away my rights. You knew she thought I was weak because I hid my position to protect your fragile ego. You knew she called me useless.”

“I… I just wanted peace,” Mark stammered. “I didn’t want to choose sides.”

“There’s no peace with predators,” I said. “Mike, take her to the station. Book her. Maximum bail.”

“Elena!” Mark stepped forward. “If you do this, it’s over! I won’t stay with a woman who puts my mother in jail!”

“Good,” I said. “Because I already mentally drafted the divorce papers while your mother was rambling. You’re an accomplice to an attempted kidnapping. I suggest you find a really good lawyer. Better than you.”

“You can’t do this,” Mark whispered, realizing his life was falling apart. “I’m your husband.”