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 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 returned to the desk. I picked up the wooden mallet, feeling its weight in my hand. It was solid, balanced, and undeniable.

I thought of Leo and Luna safe at home with their nanny—a woman I paid out of my own pocket—in a house I had bought with my own money through a trust to protect it from Mark’s debts. I thought of the peace we finally had.

I gently tapped the mallet on the desk.

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