The doctors try telling me I can have the trial pushed back while I’m on the mend, but I’m not willing to subject Sophie to one more day with Julianne than I have to. I may still hold some distant hope that Julianne will get her shit together eventually, but right now she’s using my daughter like a fucking bargaining chip, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I wait in the courtroom in one of the back rooms at a long table with my team of lawyers. They are all grim-faced, serious men and women. Aubrey, Sophie, Julianne, and my mom are out there somewhere in the courtroom waiting for the trial to start.

“Okay, Mr. King, let me just outline our strategy for you,” says Peter Goldbloom, my lead lawyer. He’s the best lawyer money can buy, and I had to pay him triple to get him to sideline another case he was working on to take mine on. “We can’t use the mail you took pictures of in court. We would risk being accused of tampering with her mail, which would be more of a detriment than a benefit to us at this juncture. If things look bleak, we may still want to hold on to it, though.

“For now, we’re going to lead with the irresponsibility card. Julianne is clearly not making wise decisions, and we’ve dug up enough public records to back up that claim.”

“What about the USB drive?” I ask. “There has to have been something on it.”

Peter sighs, folding his hands. “We’re still looking into it. I have my entire staff of paralegals digging through it right now, but your ex wife was subscribed to hundreds of newsletters and apparently had an obsession with entering contests. The vast majority of the content is just spam, contest entry confirmations, and files she has thrown together to keep track of which contests she entered.”

“There has to be something else,” I say.

“There very well could be. It’s going to take thousands of man hours to scour it completely, but we’re on it. I assure you. Just give it a couple days.”

“We may not have a couple days,” I say.

“In all likelihood, Mr. King, we won’t need the files. The court does tend to favor the mother in cases like this, but your ex-wife didn’t do herself any favors by refusing custody of your daughter until now. We should be able to build on that to prove she is using your daughter as leverage to blackmail you, which will be the main crux of our case.”

I feel a sinking, cold dread in my chest. “You can’t,” I say, voice sounding distant.

“Pardon?” asks Peter.

“Sophie has to be present for the trial, correct?” I ask.

“Yes, why?” asks Peter.

“Because I can’t let my daughter hear that her mother was only trying to get custody because she’s blackmailing me. Not a chance. We need another strategy.”

Peter gives me an annoyed, level stare. “Mr. King. We aren’t swimming in evidence here. We have to use what we can get our hands on. My team has already prepared our case around this. Changing it would be--”

“Figure it out,” I say shortly. “I’m paying you enough to adapt, aren’t I? I’m not going to crush my daughter’s heart to get her back. There has to be another way.”

Peter sighs and looks slowly to each member of his team in silence. “You had better let us brainstorm, Mr. King. We need to present our opening argument in less than an hour, and this changes everything.”

I join Aubrey in the courtroom. Our place is at a large table in front of the rows of benches. Julianne and Sophie sit at a similar table on the other side of the room. Sophie gives me a small smile, but she looks so much like a hostage it rips at my heart. Fuck. My little girl…

Julianne’s lawyers open with their argument first, leaning heavily on the “facts” Linda McCroy gathered in the time she spent watching us. They reference the “mental instability” demonstrated by Sophie while in my care, the “neglect” shown by Aubrey and I as her caregivers, the “violent tendencies” I showed through my physical altercations with Jake, and even the “pattern of neglect” Sophie has endured as a result of my business.

By the time they’ve finished, my fists are clenched and I’m itching to speak up and call them on the bullshit, but I hold my tongue. I know it would only make things worse. That’s not how this bullshit farce works.

My team comes next, and Peter opens with a statement that begins by establishing how much I’ve provided for Sophie and what a good father I’ve been. He moves on to explain how I’ve raised Sophie by myself, despite the demands of my business, and despite the lack of interest or help from her biological mother. He closes with an attack on Julianne that details her long, confused list of lovers and her financial troubles. As instructed, he doesn’t drive at the point of her disinterest too strongly. I know Sophie isn’t stupid, and I know she can see her mother doesn’t seem to care, but I don’t need a lawyer spelling it out for her, either. We can win without that. We have to.

The first surprise in the trial comes two days later, when Julianne’s team of lawyers presents candid pictures they snapped of Aubrey’s bruised face. The pictures must be recent, because they show the bruises from when Jake attacked her. Her lead lawyer is Kieran Mansfield, a slimy looking man with slicked back hair and a perpetual self-satisfied smirk explains the pictures to the jury.

“Now,” says Kieran. “I will ask the members of the jury to recall Mr. King’s violent past. Recall how Miss McCroy described the way he ruthlessly attacked an innocent bystander on the cruise ship just for trying to step in and defend Mr. Carlyle. Recall her testimony about his aggressive nature--”

“Objection,” says Peter, standing up and slamming his fist down.

“Overruled,” says the judge, a bored looking man who must be at least seventy, if not older.

“Ask yourselves,” says Kieran. “Would you have had any trouble believing a man with Mr. King’s past could have done this to his fiancée? Recall that despite the police report filed by Mr. King and his fiancée, no one ever saw Mr. Carlyle at the King residence on the day of ‘the attack’.”

“Objection,” says Peter. “Roxanne King confirmed seeing Mr. Carlyle.”

“Sustained,” says the judge. “Members of the jury. Please note that the police report was corroborated by Mr. King, his fiancée, and his mother.”

“Apologies,” says Kieran. “Mr. King’s mother did agree with her son, as she has always done in the past. However, the caretaker present that day claimed she saw nothing. She wouldn’t even testify. Perhaps Mr. King has intimidated her to--”

“Objection!” says Peter in an exasperated voice. “Speculation.”

“Sustained,” says the judge. “Members of the jury, disregard the last statement made by Mr. Mansfield.”

Kieran nods, taking his seat again, but I see the way the jury are looking at me now, and it makes me feel relatively certain they’re starting to make their minds up about me and this case. A hopeless sense of loss starts to creep in on me, like Julianne is really going to win this somehow. But fuck that. There’s no way I’m letting it happen.

When Aubrey and I get home that night, we begin digging through the files on Julianne’s computer ourselves. Instead of manually going through everything file by file, we try searching for particular terms, which initially doesn’t give us any meaningful results.

Nearly two hours later, Aubrey leans her head back and stares at the ceiling. “This feels so hopeless,” she says.

I grip her leg, squeezing slightly. “We’re going to figure it out, sweetheart. We have to. Just remember what’s at stake. We have to keep trying.”

She nods, leaning forward on the bed again and pulling up the search field on the laptop. She frowns slightly and then her eyes widen as she types in, “four under par”.

“What is--” I start to ask, but I stop short when four emails match the search.

“It was Jake’s old email address. He claimed he golfed four under par one time and I guess he thought he needed to immortalize his fib with an email address.”

I lean forward, reading the first email. Holy shit. It’s dated the day I came back home. It’s from Julianne to Jake.

Want to find your old flame? Aubrey is working at 555 Oakside Hills Dr., the gate code is 44829. You may want to act fast, because her boss is a creep and he wants to fuck her.

Aubrey and I share a look of disbelief.

“This is low,” says Aubrey. “Even for her.”

“Yeah,” I say, watching as Aubrey opens the next email. “No kidding.”

The next email is just as short and just as blatantly manipulative. It’s dated a day after Jake showed up and I decked him.

Had dinner with them last night. They spent half the night making jokes at your expense. Liam says you’re a “fucking coward” and Aubrey said she never fucked you because you have a small dick.

“How would she know he and I never slept together?” asks Aubrey.

I shake my head, unsure. But we find our answer in the next email, which was dated before the previous email and from Jake to Julianne this time. It’s a long, rambling rant about how badly he wants Aubrey back and how much he deserves to be the one to claim her virginity and how wrong she was to leave him. The whole email gives me the creeps. Aubrey closes it without a word and moves to the final email. This one is from Julianne to Jake again.

He’s going to be separated from her in the courtroom. You could get her alone. Threaten the mother and she will come. I guarantee it. You’ll have your shot at her if you take it now. Call her right at noon.

“She put him up to it,” I say slowly. “The fucking bitch actually went that far? She was willing to risk your life and my mom’s life to get money from me?” I shake my head, looking down at the bed as a new, hard certainty settles over me. “She’s dead to me. No more. No fucking more. I’m done hoping she’ll change. I’m done trying to protect her. You’re all Sophie needs now. She’s strong enough to move on. The fucking gloves are coming off, so help me God. We’re going to bring Julianne’s ass down, no matter what it takes.”

Aubrey takes a deep breath, meeting my eyes and nodding.