CHSPTER 12: Psychological Parentage

Everett didn’t grieve.

That surprised Lilian at first.

She had expected rage, denial, maybe even  tears. Something loud and dramatic. Instead, he sat across from her in the living room with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, listening as their lawyer spoke.

“She’s biologically Whitmore’s,” the lawyer said carefully, tapping a pen against his notepad. “That’s not in dispute anymore.”

Everett nodded once.

“But biology,” the lawyer continued, “isn’t the only thing courts consider.”

Lilian leaned forward. “Say that again.”

The lawyer adjusted his glasses. “Psychological parentage. The parent who has provided consistent care, emotional stability, routine and also who  the child recognizes as home.”

Everett finally looked up.

“I raised her,” he said quietly.

He didn’t sound angry. He sounded resolved.

“I was there when she cried at night. I held her through fevers. I changed diapers. I sang her to sleep.” His jaw tightened. “Whitmore didn’t even know she existed.”

“And Arabella?” Lilian asked.

The lawyer hesitated. “She was absent for the first year.”

Lilian’s lips curved into something sharp. “That was not by choice,” she said softly. “But courts don’t care about intentions. They care about impact. Right?”

Everett exhaled slowly.

“So what do we do?”

The lawyer met his eyes. “We argue that removing Raina from the only home she’s known would cause psychological harm. That Mr. Whitmore is a stranger whose genetic material was used without consent. And that Ms. Ashford is attempting to reclaim the child now only because of inheritance complications.”

Lilian smiled.

“That won’t be hard to sell.”

Arabella was served three days later.

The envelope was thick and official. 

She stood in her kitchen staring at it long after the courier left, her hands trembling as though the paper itself could burn her.

Marcus arrived within the hour.

“They’re filing for shared temporary custody,” he said gently. “During proceedings.”

Arabella’s breath hitched. “Shared…?”

“They’re arguing psychological parentage. Stability and Continuity.”

“And me?” she asked. “What are they saying about me?”

Marcus hesitated, just long enough.

“That you’ve recently experienced severe emotional distress,” he said. “And that  you’re recovering from trauma. That it may not be in the child’s best interest to be with you full time until matters are resolved.”

Arabella laughed once. It came out broken.

“So they steal my child, lie to me, use my body without consent, and now I’m the unstable one?”

Marcus didn’t answer.

…….

The hearing was brief.

Too brief for something that would split her life in half.

The judge spoke calmly and reasonably. 

Temporary custody was granted.

Three days a week with Arabella, then  Raina would remain with Everett and Lilian the remaining days of the week..

Arabella felt the ruling land in her chest like a physical blow.

Adrian sat beside her, silent, his presence was a shield and a distance at the same time. He didn’t look at Everett. Didn’t look at Lilian. He stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, hands folded like a man holding himself together by force alone.

The term “psychological parentage” was dropped repeatedly, a phrase that stabbed at Arabella’s chest like cold steel. They argued that Everett, as the man who had lived with Raina, fed her, played with her, and comforted her through every scrape and sleepless night, was her true father in every sense that mattered. Adrian, they insisted, was a stranger who had no part in the day-to-day life of the child, he was simply a biological donor, nothing more.

Later, when Arabella prepared to leave the courthouse, Vanessa appeared almost theatrically in the lobby, arms folded, a false smile plastered across her face.

“Arabella? Fancy seeing you here,” she said.

Arabella’s jaw tightened. “We have nothing to say,” she replied, eyes cold.

Vanessa’s mask faltered. “Must be nice… getting everything back.”

“No. You lost everything because you’re thieves,” Arabella said, stepping past her, keeping  voice low but dangerous.

Vanessa’s desperation leaked through. “Dad’s broke. This isn’t over.”

Arabella ignored her. She didn’t need to waste energy on those who had built their illusions on her losses. She had a daughter to see.

Back in her car, Arabella let herself breathe, but the emptiness of the temporary custody hung over her like a storm cloud. Three days. And each handoff would be torture. Meanwhile, Lilian had trained Raina well, coaching the toddler to cry when she saw her. Every day apart would be a battle of endurance, a test of love against manipulation, a war for the heart of her child.

And somewhere in the background, Everett’s mind was already racing. He had a plan to get Arabella back. To turn her vulnerability into leverage. But Arabella, for now, would only see the surface: the law had given her access, but the fight was far from over.