My priority was making sure my children were safe and secure.
When Julian discovered where the children and I were staying, he arrived at my new apartment visibly upset. He stepped through the doorway, staring at the new furniture, my professional dual-monitor workstation, and the bright, carefully decorated bedrooms I had prepared for the twins.
“Where did you get enough money for all this?” he demanded, his eyes moving rapidly around the room.
“I earned it.”
He scoffed. “You? Doing little jobs online?”
I handed him a printed bank statement from the counter.
As his eyes moved across the numbers, the confidence slowly disappeared from his expression.
“You don’t know nearly as much about me as you think, Julian,” I said quietly. “You never took the time to ask.”
When I calmly mentioned Victoria’s name, his composure disappeared completely. He couldn’t deny what had happened.
“I know why you’re asking for the kids,” I added. “And I’m going to protect them.”
Before leaving, Julian announced that he would hire one of the toughest custody attorneys in the city.
Over the following two weeks, he began giving the twins expensive presents during his court-approved weekend visits. New tablet computers, designer clothing, and an enormous electric ride-on toy car. He told Mateo that he could keep the car permanently at his house if he told the judge he wanted to stay with Daddy.
Following my attorney’s advice, I didn’t interfere with his visitation while the temporary court orders were still being considered.
I questioned that decision on the Sunday evening before our emergency court hearing.
Julian brought the children home at dusk. Mateo rushed inside and immediately wrapped both arms around my legs, pressing his face into my skirt. Sophia followed slowly behind him, quietly crying.
“What happened, sweetheart?” I asked, kneeling beside her.
Julian leaned against the doorway, glancing at his watch. “She’s upset over nothing. Kids get emotional sometimes.” Then he turned and walked down the hallway without another explanation.
When I carefully unbuttoned Sophia’s cardigan so I could change her clothes, I stopped.
There was a noticeable dark mark on her upper arm that appeared consistent with someone having held her too firmly.
“Sophia… can you tell me what happened to your arm?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Sophia looked down at the floor without answering.
Mateo spoke from the couch. “The lady at Daddy’s new house.”
