Page 41 of Retribution

“Watch your tone.” Bill finally speaks.

I narrow my eyes towards him, his face stone cold and pale.

“I know enough to know that you neglected your wife when she needed you, you let our daughter suffer for the last few months of her life,” she sobs.

I’ve had enough of this, I have never wanted their opinion and I sure as hell don’t want it now. I place my teacup onto the coffee table and stand up from the couch, straightening my jacket.

“Thank you for your concerns, but I have priorities that relate to my daughter.” I turn to exit the room.

Rachel reaches into her bag and throws a stack of papers onto the coffee table in the middle of the two pieces of furniture, her hand shaking.

I glance at the table and then back up to their faces. Both stare at the floor, giving away nothing.

“What’s this?” I gesture to the table.

A long pause.

“We’re filing for full custody of Willow”

* * *

I order them to leave after they spilled the news. They are no longer my in-laws; they are my competition. Like hell, they will get custody of Willow. My brain can’t even comprehend the situation, how they even think they have the right to try and take her away from me.

They have lost Allie and they think by taking Willow, it will somehow subsidize their loss.

The initial hearing is in a few weeks that will determine where Willow will stay for the duration of the custody battle, I have little time to plan and arrange a funeral and gather enough evidence to prove that I am what is best for her.

What kind of evidence do I even need?

This is not my area of expertise, and I am not going down without a fight. I’m going to give it my everything to ensure my daughter stays with me, her father, I am who she needs.

I know what I need to do. I pull open my contact list, scrolling down until I see his name.

Harrison.

Chapter 12

Indie

Pushing my key into my apartment door, I twist it to open. I take hold of the gym bag from the floor and struggle to manage the heavy stack of letters I collected on my way into the building. The apartment is dark, and the coldness creates a chill across my bare arms, creating a layer of goosebumps.

I drop the bag and kick it under the bench in the entrance, flicking on the light switch.

The room fills with light, revealing the empty room at the end of the hallway. I slowly begin to walk, remembering the last time I was in here. I peer at the photo frame that sits on the sideboard, New York.

It grips me, the happy couple that stare back at me, no longer recognizable. His face causes my stomach to tighten and writhe, the face that once could brighten my day with the simplest of smiles.

I snatch the delicate frame and place it face down; I don’t need a permanent reminder of the mockery that has been made of me.

My body aches, the tiredness settling into my bones from the last few hours of ballet. I’d missed the studio, missed the girls, missed the feeling of escape through my dancing.

It haunts me, knowing the reason why Willow wasn’t there. I’m can’t even begin to comprehend what that little girl must be going through. I really wish I could help her out in some sort of a way, to try and soften the huge gaping hole that she now must live with.

My mother was never any sort of example to me, she barely speaks to me anymore. But, at least I know she is still alive and breathing, despite our indifference.

I climb up onto the bar stool and face time Lola.

It’s pretty late now, but I’m sure she’ll still be up watching whatever trashy reality TV show she’s into.

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