The baby wiggled. He opened one tiny, slate-gray eye, and when Chloe slipped her finger through the access port in the side of the incubator, he wrapped his tiny, warm hand around it. Chloe broke down sobbing, not the ragged, terrified sobs from the hallway, but soft, relieved cries, tears running down her face as she stroked the back of her son’s tiny hand. “He knows you,” Eleanor said, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was crying too, her throat tight with a mix of overwhelming love and white-hot rage. She’d spent two years biting her tongue about Mark, not wanting to be the overbearing mother-in-law who chased her daughter’s husband away. She’d hated him from the first time she met him, when he’d showed up 45 minutes late to their first dinner, spent the whole night complaining about how Chloe “spent too much money” on lattes, and left the $80 bill for Eleanor to pay. But Chloe had loved him. She’d said he was “ambitious,” that he was “going to build a life for them.” Eleanor had let her believe it, even when every instinct screamed that he was a leech. She’d never forgive herself for that.
Maria brought them a stack of forms a few minutes later, plus a warm blanket for Chloe and a tray of soup and Jell-O from the hospital kitchen. “I already changed your emergency contact to your mom,” Maria said, sliding the forms across the little rolling table next to Chloe’s chair. “I called social work, they’re sending someone up in 10 minutes to take your statement about the abuse. We have a domestic violence advocate on staff, she can help you get into a shelter if you need it, or connect you to resources for housing and food assistance.” “She doesn’t need a shelter,” Eleanor said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “She’s coming home with me. But we’re gonna need all the documentation you have for court.”
She dialed Arthur’s number, her thumb hovering over the call button for half a second before she pressed it. Arthur was her older brother, a ruthless family law attorney who’d spent 30 years destroying deadbeat husbands and deadbeat dads for low-income women pro bono. He’d warned her Mark was bad news the day Chloe announced her engagement, had run a background check on him without telling anyone, had even offered to pay for Chloe to get a prenup. Chloe had refused, said Mark would never take anything from her. “Eleanor, I’m in the middle of a custody hearing,” Arthur said when he picked up, his voice low, like he was whispering to her from the courtroom hallway. “This can’t wait?” “Mark locked Chloe out of the house three days ago,” Eleanor said, her voice cold. “She slept in her car in the rain. She went into premature labor this morning. The baby’s in the NICU. Mark was trying to bar her from seeing him unless she signs the house over to him.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Eleanor could hear Arthur slamming his briefcase shut. “I’m 45 minutes away,” he said, his voice sharp with rage. “I’m calling my paralegal right now, I’ll have a temporary restraining order, emergency custody papers, and emergency divorce paperwork filed before I even get there. I’m also calling Sarah at the DA’s office, she handles domestic violence cases. This isn’t just civil. That piece of shit almost killed two people. He’s facing felony charges.” “Thank you,” Eleanor said, her voice cracking. “That’s what family’s for,” Arthur said. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Chloe told the social worker everything while they waited for Arthur, her voice small as she picked at the edge of her hospital gown. She’d found out Mark was cheating on her two weeks prior, when she’d found a receipt for a $600 hotel stay in his jacket pocket, followed by a string of text messages from a woman named Jessica on his phone. She’d confronted him that night, and he’d flown into a rage. He’d changed the passwords on all their shared bank accounts, cut off her access to his health insurance, taken her phone and her car keys. She’d gotten the keys back the next day when he was at “work” — she’d later found out he’d quit his job 6 months prior, had been lying about building a marketing startup while he gambled away her inheritance on crypto.
Her grandma had left her the $750,000 four-bedroom house in Northeast Portland when she died, plus $150,000 in savings for the baby and for Chloe to finish her graphic design degree. Mark had spent every cent of the savings in 6 months: $127,000 on crypto that was now worth $1,200, $15,000 on hotel stays and fancy dinners with Jessica, $8,000 on a new motorcycle he kept in the garage and never let Chloe ride. “I begged him for $40 for the copay for my OBGYN appointment,” Chloe said, her voice shaking. “I told her I was having cramps, that I was scared something was wrong with the baby. He laughed. He pushed me out the front door, locked it, turned off the porch light. It was pouring rain. I had $12 in my purse. I walked 2 miles to the grocery store, bought a granola bar and a bottle of water, slept in my Civic for three days. I didn’t have anyone to call. I didn’t want to worry you, I thought I could fix it.”
Eleanor pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You don’t ever have to fix anything alone, baby. I’m always here. Always.”
Arthur showed up 90 minutes later, his suit wrinkled, his tie loosened, his briefcase bulging with paperwork. He hugged Chloe first, then Eleanor, then pulled a thick stack of printed forms out of his briefcase, slapping them down on the table. “TRO is already signed by a judge,” he said, tapping the top form. “Mark can’t come within 500 feet of you, the baby, the hospital, or the house. If he so much as drives down your street, he gets arrested. Emergency custody order gives you sole legal and physical custody of Liam — that’s the name you picked, right? — no visitation for Mark until we have a full hearing in two weeks. Divorce papers are ready to file. We’re asking for full spousal support for five years, full child support until he’s 18, and full restitution for the $150,000 he stole from your inheritance. I also talked to Sarah at the DA’s office. She’s issuing a warrant for his arrest for felony theft and criminal endangerment of a minor. He’s looking at up to five years in prison if he’s convicted.”
Chloe stared at the papers, her eyes wide. “You did all that in 90 minutes?” “I’ve been waiting for this piece of shit to mess up since you told me you were dating him,” Arthur said, his voice soft. “I had half the paperwork prepped just in case. I told you he was bad news, kiddo. I’m sorry I didn’t push harder.” “It’s not your fault,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t want to listen.”
Arthur left to go serve Mark the papers 10 minutes later, Eleanor following him down to the lobby. Mark was sitting on a plastic chair by the automatic doors, hunched over his phone, trying to call his lawyer. He looked up when they walked over, his face twisting into a snarl. “You can’t do this,” he said, standing up. “That’s my wife, that’s my kid, that house is half mine!” “Actually, it’s not,” Arthur said, slapping the stack of papers down on the table in front of him. “The house was inherited by Chloe solely during your marriage, per her grandmother’s will. You have zero legal claim to it. You’ve been served with a temporary restraining order, emergency custody order, and divorce papers. You have 72 hours to move all your stuff out of the house. If you leave so much as a scratch on the walls, we’ll sue you for damages. Also, the DA’s office has a warrant out for your arrest. You should probably call a criminal defense lawyer. You’re gonna need one.”
