Chapter 16 - The Thirteenth Day
Claire called it the thirteenth-day deadline because that was when the family court expected the parties to submit their parenting proposals.
The deadline was not arbitrary to me.
It marked thirteen days during which Ethan had asked nearly every morning whether Dad was still angry with him.
I arranged for a child therapist experienced in family conflict to support him without making him a source of evidence.
Ethan didn't want to talk on the first visit.
He built a small bridge instead.
I knew better than to ask what that meant.
The therapist told me privately that steady reassurance mattered more than extracting an explanation.
Across town, Adrian prepared a flashy press conference about his supposedly stolen business.
His lawyers advised against it, but he held it anyway.
He called himself the victim of a conspiracy involving my father, the board, and a child who had been fed lines.
By evening clips of his speech were everywhere.
I wanted to throw my phone across the room.
Instead I watched Ethan eat dinner and listened to him describe the difference between suspension and cable-stayed bridges.
His world deserved to remain larger than his father's anger.
Adrian's proposed parenting schedule arrived at six.
It demanded that Ethan alternate weeks between our home and Celeste's penthouse, with no transition support.
Claire objected to the impracticality and pointed to the existing school routine.
My counterproposal offered regular structured contact with Adrian, dependent on appropriate safeguards and professional guidance.
I did not ask the court to erase him.
I asked it not to make Ethan pay for the adults' fight.
That same night investigators obtained a lawful preservation order for records held by Peter's consulting businesses.
Peter's attorney responded with a letter promising cooperation.
Then, at eleven seventeen, a reporter emailed me a scanned copy of the forged authorization bearing my name.
The subject line was short.
"Comment before publication?"
I forwarded it to counsel and sent a factual response that the authenticity of the document was disputed and under independent review.
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At midnight I received a call from an old Voss Meridian engineer.
"Mrs. Voss," he said, "I have the original logs. Someone has been trying to delete them."
