Adrian didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t slam the door.
He didn’t shatter a glass or punch a wall.
He simply said, “Enough.”
And walked out of the room like a man going to war.
I followed him. Quietly. Slowly. My legs shaky beneath the weight of everything that had come before and everything about to come after.
“Adrian?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t stop moving. “She wants a war. I’ll give her one.”
“But the custody hearing……”
“She wants to weaponize your mind? Pretend you’re unstable?” His jaw clenched. “Then we expose her first.”
He reached for his phone, dialed, and waited.
“Vanessa. I need everything. The hit-and-run. The suppressed records. Her old school files. Therapy notes if they exist. Family referrals. People she bullied. Threatened. Bribed. I don’t care if we need to go back to childhood,if she’s starting fires, we bring the matches.”
He ended the call and looked at me.
“She thinks you’ll break if she makes you look weak.”
“And maybe I will,” I admitted.
