CHAPTER 13: Mother On Trial

The neutral exchange location was a family services center on the east side of the city. It smelled like disinfectant and sadness.

Arabella arrived fifteen minutes early, her hands gripping the steering wheel long after she'd parked. She stared at the building's beige exterior, at the glass doors that separated her from the moment she'd been waiting for.

Three days.

She would have Raina for three days.

It should have felt like victory. Instead, it felt like begging for scraps of her own child.

She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. she had on minimal makeup, soft sweater and Jeans. Monica had advised her to look "maternal but stable." Not too put-together, that read as cold and not too casual that read as unstable.

Arabella had spent an hour choosing an outfit that would prove she was worthy of her own daughter.

The absurdity of it made her want to scream.

She got out of the car, smoothing her hands over her jeans, and walked toward the building. The late afternoon sun felt too warm on her skin. Everything felt wrong.

Inside, a social worker named Ms. Brennan greeted her with professional sympathy.

"Ms. Ashford. Right on time." She gestured toward a small waiting area with plastic chairs and children's toys scattered across a faded rug. "They should be here any moment."

Arabella nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat.

The door opened.

Lilian entered first, carrying Raina on her hip. The toddler's dark curls were pulled into two small pigtails tied with pink ribbons. Everett followed behind them, with a neutral expression.

Arabella stood slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Hi, sweetheart," she whispered.

Raina blinked at her, confusion flickering across her small face. Then she buried her head against Lilian's shoulder. The rejection was immediate and devastating.

"She's just tired," Ms. Brennan said gently. "It's been a long day."

But Arabella saw the truth in Lilian's eyes. The slight curve of her lips. The way she stroked Raina's back just a little too deliberately.

This wasn't exhaustion. This was training.

"Come on, baby," Lilian cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Say hi to Arabella."

Not mama. Not mommy.

Arabella.

Raina whimpered and clung tighter.

"It's okay," Arabella said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "I know this is confusing for her."

She stepped closer, holding out her hand. "Hi, Raina. It's me. I'm..."

The word caught in her throat.

What was she supposed to say? I'm your mother? Would that mean anything to a child who'd been taught someone else held that title?

"I'm Arabella," she finished quietly. "And I'm so happy to see you."

Raina peeked out from Lilian's shoulder with her wide dark eyes, Arabella's eyes, studying this stranger with caution.

"We packed her favorite things," Lilian said, gesturing to the diaper bag Everett held. "Her blanket. Mr. Hopps, that's her stuffed bunny. She won't sleep without him."

Arabella nodded, trying to absorb the information. A year of her daughter's life, condensed into a list of objects she didn't know existed.

"She likes her bottle warm, not hot," Lilian continued. "And she has a rash, so we've been using the cream in the side pocket. Don't forget, or she gets fussy."

Each instruction felt like a knife.

I should know this, Arabella thought desperately. I should know what makes her fussy. I should know her favorite blanket. I should know everything.

But she didn't.

And Lilian made sure she felt it.

"Any questions?" Lilian asked, her smile sharp beneath the maternal facade.

"No," Arabella managed. "Thank you."

Ms. Brennan cleared her throat. "All right. Let's make the transition."

Lilian kissed Raina's forehead, a slow, deliberate gesture meant to be witnessed. "Mama will see you in three days, okay, baby? Be good."

She handed Raina to Ms. Brennan, who tried to pass the toddler to Arabella.

The moment Raina realized where she was going, she started to cry.

Not a soft whimper. A full, wailing scream that echoed off the center's walls.

"No! Want Mama Lily! Mama Lily!"

Arabella's arms closed around her daughter's writhing body, trying to hold her gently despite the thrashing.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I've got you. It's okay."

But Raina only screamed louder, reaching desperately toward Lilian.

Lilian stood there, arms crossed, watching with manufactured concern. "Poor thing. She's never been away from me this long."

The lie was so smooth Arabella almost missed the cruelty beneath it.

"Maybe we should..." Everett started, but Ms. Brennan cut him off.

"This is normal," she said firmly. "Transitions are difficult. She'll calm down once you're gone."

Lilian's eyes flashed, but she nodded. "Of course. Whatever's best for Raina."

She turned to leave, Everett following.

At the door, Everett paused, looking back at Arabella struggling to comfort the screaming child in her arms.

For just a moment, something flickered across his face. Guilt? Regret?

Then it was gone, and he walked out.

The door closed.

Raina's cries didn't stop.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," Ms. Brennan suggested gently, guiding them toward a small playroom.

Inside, Arabella sank onto the floor, still holding Raina. The toddler's face was red and wet with tears, her little body shaking with sobs.

"Shh," Arabella murmured, rocking her gently. "I know. I know, sweetheart. This is scary. But I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."

Raina hiccupped, her crying beginning to slow into exhausted whimpers.

Arabella stroked her hair, careful of the ribbons Lilian had tied. "You have such pretty curls," she whispered. "Just like... just like your grandmother. My mama."

Raina's breathing evened out, though she still trembled.

Arabella reached for the diaper bag and pulled out the stuffed bunny called Mr. Hopps. She held it out.

"Is this your friend?"

Raina's eyes locked onto the bunny. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for it.

The moment her fingers closed around the worn fabric, she relaxed slightly against Arabella's chest.

It wasn't much.

But it was something.

"That's it," Arabella breathed. "See? I have Mr. Hopps. And your blanket. And everything you need."

Raina sucked her thumb, clutching the bunny, her body finally still.

Arabella closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her daughter in her arms for the first time in over a year.

Three days, she reminded herself. Make every moment count.

---

The drive to her penthouse was silent except for Raina's occasional sniffles from the car seat Arabella had installed that morning.

She'd watched three YouTube videos to make sure she did it right. Inside the apartment, Arabella had prepared everything. A crib she'd assembled herself. Toys she'd bought based on age recommendations online. Books. Clothes in every size because she wasn't sure what would fit.

But when she carried Raina inside, the toddler's face crumpled again.

It took two hours to get her to eat anything. Another hour to calm her down enough for a bath. By the time Arabella finally got her into pajamas, both of them were exhausted.

"Story?" Arabella offered, holding up one of the new books.

Raina shook her head, reaching for Mr. Hopps.

"Okay. No story tonight." Arabella's voice was gentle. "How about we just... sit together?"

She settled into the rocking chair she'd bought, Raina curled in her lap.

They sat in silence, Arabella rocking slowly, listening to her daughter's breathing even out.

"I love you," Arabella whispered into the dark curls. "I know you don't understand that yet. But I do. I love you so much."

Raina didn't respond. She was already asleep.

Arabella held her for another hour, memorizing the weight of her, the smell of her baby shampoo, the way her fingers clutched Mr. Hopps even in sleep.

Three days.

Then she'd have to give her back.

And the cycle would start all over again.

Arabella left the nursery door a little open and walked to her bedroom. Only then, alone in the dark, did she let herself cry. A deep, wrenching sobs of a mother who had to earn the right to hold her own child.

And tomorrow, she'd have to do it all again.

For three precious days.

Before the handoff came, and Raina would cry for "Mama Lily" all over again.

The war wasn't over.

It had only just begun.