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Mia's POVThe table goes silent.Every adult freezes.Madison's hand grips my arm. "Mommy, what's sex life?"Oh God."It's—" I start."I know!" Alexander announces. He's still standing on his chair. "It's when grown-ups use very BIG voices to say 'GOOD' to each other!"Ethan nods seriously. "Very loud. We hear it sometimes when Uncle Morton visits Aunt Scarlett.""HEARD," Morton corrects, his face now the color of the tomatoes in the burrata. "Past tense. That doesn't—we don't—""And sometimes they say 'OH GOD,'" Madison adds helpfully. "Like they're praying. Very loudly."Thomas chokes on his prosecco."We understand grown-up stuff," Alexander continues proudly. "We're very mature."My head is pounding. This is not happening. This cannot be happening."Sweethearts," I say carefully. "That's not—""Yes it is," Ethan insists. "Grown-ups say 'good' very loudly. Sometimes 'yes' too. Sometimes 'don't stop.' It means they're happy about life. Sex life. Like...six life? But spelled differen
Mia's POVSophie appears beside us. The champagne bottle is nearly empty."No," she announces. "Absolutely not. We are not ending this celebration in a parking lot like peasants. We are going somewhere fabulous. Somewhere with food and more champagne and possibly dancing.""It's one in the afternoon," Scarlett points out."So? The French eat lunch at one. We are being culturally appropriate.""You just want an excuse to drink more.""I don't need an excuse. I'm French. We don't believe in excuses for champagne. We believe in champagne for everything."Thomas is standing next to Sophie. Close. His shoulder almost touching hers."She has a point," he says."You're enabling her," Morton observes."Someone should."Sophie spins to face Thomas. Her red dress swirls. "Did you just agree with me?""Don't let it go to your head.""Too late. It's already there. Swimming in all the champagne."Scarlett is watching this exchange. Her arms are crossed. Her expression is carefully neutral but her
Mia's POVKyle's hand lands on my shoulder. Squeezes.When I look up, his eyes are wet.My mother appears beside us. Her arms wrap around both me and Madison. A three-person hug."My granddaughter," she says. "My official granddaughter."Hugo stands behind her. His hand on her back. Steady.Scarlett is crying. Actually crying. Mascara running down her face. She doesn't even try to hide it.Morton hands her his pocket square. She takes it. Doesn't look at him. But she takes it.Sophie is dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "This is ridiculous," she announces. "I don't cry at these things. I'm French. We don't cry. We drink champagne and philosophize about the meaninglessness of existence.""You're crying," Thomas observes."I have allergies.""To what?""Emotions."Judge Patterson is smiling. Really smiling. "There are papers to sign. Ms. Williams, if you'll come with me to the clerk's office."I stand. Madison doesn't let go. She wraps her legs around my waist. Clings like a koala."Ca
Mia's POVJudge Patterson calls the social worker next.Her name is Linda Morrison. She's been assigned to Madison's case since Victoria's arrest.She stands. Walks to the front. Swears to tell the truth."Ms. Morrison," Judge Patterson begins. "You've been overseeing Madison's placement with Ms. Williams. Can you describe your observations?"Linda pulls out a file. "I've conducted five home visits over the past six months. Each time, Madison appeared happy, healthy, and well-cared-for. The home is clean, organized, and safe. Madison has her own bedroom, which she decorated with Ms. Williams's help. She has school supplies, clothing, toys. All her medical needs are being met—she's current on vaccinations, has regular dental checkups, and is seeing a therapist weekly.""What about her relationship with the family?""Excellent. Madison has bonded with Alexander and Ethan. .""And Madison's adjustment?""Better than expected. Initially she had nightmares. Some separation anxiety. Difficu
Mia's POVWe file in.The courtroom is smaller than I expected.Not like the courtrooms on TV. No jury box. No gallery full of people. Just a judge's bench—high, imposing—and a table for us. Chairs. An American flag in the corner. A state flag beside it.Windows on one wall. Tall. The glass is old. Slightly wavy. The light coming through has a golden quality.We take our seats. Madison and me at the table. Kyle beside me. The others fill the chairs behind us.Gas lies down beside Madison's chair. Her head on her paws. Her eyes moving. Watching.A door behind the bench opens.Judge Patterson enters.He's older. Maybe sixty. Glasses. Gray hair receding but neatly trimmed. His robe is black. Freshly pressed. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound as he moves.He sits. Arranges papers on his desk. Picks up a pen. Sets it down. Picks up another pen.Then he looks up.His eyes find Madison first. He smiles. It's warm. Real."You must be Madison."She nods. Doesn't speak."I'm Judge Patterso
Mia's POVThe courthouse steps are wider than I remember.Gray granite. Each step slightly worn in the center where thousands of feet have walked over decades. The wearing makes a gentle dip. Like a shallow bowl.Madison stops at the bottom step.Her hand squeezes mine. Three times. Quick pulses."Hey," I say quietly. "We're okay."She nods but doesn't move.Behind us, the others are getting out of cars. Morton's black SUV. Thomas's sedan. Sophie arrived in something red and expensive that probably costs more than most people's houses.Gas is pulling on her leash. Alexander is holding the other end, letting himself be dragged forward."Gas wants to go in!" Alexander announces. "She's excited!""The dog is not excited," Ethan says. "The dog smells something. Probably food. There's always food at courthouses because people have to wait a long time and they get hungry.""How do you know that?""I read about it.""You read about people being hungry at courthouses?""I read about a lot of








