Chapter 28
DAREK
I’d been pacing outside the courthouse for twenty minutes, wearing a path in the concrete sidewalk, and I couldn’t stop. My lawyers had told me to arrive early. They asked me to look calm and confident. But calm and confident were the last things I felt.
I was terrified. Nauseated. I had been since last night. Liza had slept in my bed again last night but there was no sex. She just held me and did her best to keep me calm.
But there was no calming me. I was a fucking basket case.
I hadn’t been able to eat anything since lunch the day before. Liza had tried to convince me to eat some toast for breakfast, but I was too afraid I would end up vomiting in the middle of court. That was not going to look good.
“Darek, you need to breathe,” Liza said, catching my arm as I made another circuit. “You’re going to hyperventilate.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And you’re scaring Daisie.”
That stopped me. I looked over at my daughter, who was sitting on a bench clutching the stuffed whale Liza had given her.
She was watching me with wide, worried eyes.
She was wearing the dress we had picked out together.
Her hair was neatly braided. She looked small and vulnerable and absolutely terrified.
Because of me. Because I couldn’t keep my anxiety in check.
I went over and knelt in front of her. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”
“Are you in trouble, Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart. This is just a meeting with a judge. Like I explained, remember? She’s going to ask some questions and then everyone goes home.”
“But you seem scared.”
I forced a smile. “I’m just nervous. Like you get nervous before a test at school. But it’s going to be fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t convinced either.
If things went badly today, I wouldn’t know how to go on.
The thought of losing custody of Daisie—even partial custody—was unbearable.
She was everything to me. My whole world.
And the idea of some judge deciding I wasn’t fit to be her father was beyond my comprehension.
Like it was so horrifying, my brain refused to think about what that would mean.
“Mr. Sullivan?”
I turned to see my legal team approaching. Aaron Brennan, lead attorney, and his associate Brittany. Both were dressed in their courtroom best, carrying briefcases, looking professional and capable. I paid them a fortune to be professional and capable.
I just hoped it would be enough.
“We should head inside,” Aaron said. “Get settled before the hearing starts.”
He led us through security and down a hallway to a small conference room just off the main courtroom. The room was generic. Beige walls, a scarred wooden table, uncomfortable chairs. Everything about it felt designed to strip away pretense and comfort.
“Why don’t Daisie and I walk around and see all the cool stuff?” Liza suggested in a voice filled with faux enthusiasm.
I nodded. I wanted to tell her thank you, but I just couldn’t get the words out. She gave me a soft smile and then left the room.
“Alright,” Aaron said once we were all seated. “Let’s go over what’s going to happen.”
I tried to focus on his words, but my mind kept drifting. I didn’t want to think about what if, but I also felt like I needed to prepare myself. I didn’t want to crash out in front of the judge and everyone else. I had to mentally get ready.
“The photo is really damning,” Aaron was saying, and that snapped my attention back. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Darek. That image makes you look negligent. And we still can’t prove it’s been digitally altered.”
“But it has been,” I said through gritted teeth. “I was holding on to her life jacket the entire time. The water wasn’t choppy like that. Someone changed the background.”
“I believe you. But belief isn’t evidence.
” He pulled out his own copy of the photo, spreading it on the table.
“The picture is supposedly a still from security footage at the yacht club. When we tried to get the original video, the club said it’s automatically erased after thirty days. So it’s gone.”
“Convenient,” I muttered.
“Very convenient,” Brittany agreed. “We suspect Grant Waverly may have had something to do with either the alteration or the deletion. He has motive—he’s dating your ex-wife—and he has access to the club’s security systems.”
“Can we prove that?”
“Not without the original footage. And even if we could retrieve it, get forensic specialists to recover deleted files from the hard drives, we don’t have time. The judge wants to rule on this today. She’s concerned about Daisie’s safety and wants to ensure she’s in a secure environment.”
“She is in a secure environment. With me.”
“We know that. But we need to convince the judge.” Aaron leaned forward.
“The good news is the home evaluation went extremely well. Ms. Ellison’s report is glowing.
She describes a loving, stable home with a devoted father.
That carries significant weight. She made notes about the security fence around the pool and a double lock on the liquor cabinet.
Her opinion matters a lot. She saw the real living conditions and not a split-second snapshot.
We will argue that kids do stupid stuff all the time.
Any parent probably has a thousand of those split-second snapshots in their parenting career.
The evaluation is the real image of your life. ”
“Is it enough to overcome the photo?”
“Hopefully. Combined with your testimony, character witnesses, and the fact that Sasha abandoned Daisie for three years—yes, I think we have a strong case. But I won’t lie to you. It’s going to be close.”
“What about Liza?” I asked. “Will they call her to testify?”
“Probably. Sasha’s lawyer will definitely ask about your relationship. You need to be honest. Don’t try to hide the arrangement.”
“I won’t lie under oath.”
“Good. Because if they catch you in a lie, it’s over.”
We went over more details. By the time we finished, my head was pounding and my stomach was in knots.
“It’s time,” Aaron said, checking his watch. “Let’s go.”
Daisie and Liza were waiting outside the room.
Melody was there as well. That just made my stomach clench harder.
I asked Melody to sit with Daisie outside the courtroom.
I didn’t want her to hear all the ugly things that were going to be said about me or her mother.
If she was needed, she would be available to speak to the judge.
The attorney said that was a possibility.
“Thank you for coming,” I said to Melody.
She smiled. “Absolutely. You just let me know if anyone wants to hear my two cents. I will be happy to tell them what I’ve seen and know.”
“My attorney knows,” I said. “Thank you.”
I gave Daisie a quick kiss and took Liza’s hand.
The courtroom was smaller than I’d expected. Wood paneling, a judge’s bench that seemed too large for the space, a few rows of seats for observers. It was already half-full. I assumed it was people who were probably waiting for other cases.
We took our seats at one of the tables. Liza sat behind me. I could feel her presence, which gave me strength.
Across the aisle, Sasha and her legal team were settling in at their table.
She looked nervous. Good. I hoped the judge put her in her place.
Grant Waverly sat in the row behind her, his presence like a splinter under my skin.
His smug face, his proprietary hand on the back of Sasha’s chair, everything about him made me want to punch him in the throat.
I knew he was funding this whole damn thing.
“All rise.”
The judge entered, a woman in her sixties with silver hair and sharp eyes that seemed to see everything. Judge Patricia Morrison. Aaron had told me she was fair but no nonsense, with a reputation for cutting through bullshit. I hoped that would work in our favor.
We sat back down, and the clerk called our case. “Matter of Sullivan, custody modification.”
Aaron stood. “Aaron Brennan for the respondent, Darek Sullivan, your honor.”
Sasha’s lawyer stood. “Jeffrey Whitmore for the petitioner, Sasha Gentry.”
Judge Morrison looked down at the case file in front of her. “I’ve reviewed the filings from both parties. Mr. Whitmore, you may proceed with your opening statement.”
Sasha’s lawyer stood and launched into his argument. I had to resist the urge to interrupt every other sentence.
He painted me as a workaholic who prioritized business over fatherhood.
Never mind that I had cut my hours in half specifically to spend more time with Daisie.
He described Sasha as a devoted mother who’d struggled with postpartum depression, which was news to me.
I had never heard her claim that. Apparently, she needed time to heal before she could be the parent Daisie deserved.
“My client has worked incredibly hard to overcome her challenges,” Whitmore said, his voice dripping with sympathy. “She’s sought therapy, established a stable home, and is ready to be an active, present parent. All she’s asking for is joint custody—a chance to be in her daughter’s life.”
He made it sound reasonable. Like Sasha was the victim here, not Daisie.
Then he got to the photo.
“But the most concerning issue, your honor, is this.” He pressed a button on his laptop and the image appeared on the large monitor at the front of the courtroom, blown up so everyone could see every damning detail.
There I was, looking away from Daisie as she leaned over the edge of the dock. The water behind her looked rough, choppy, dangerous. She appeared to be one strong gust of wind away from falling in, and I was paying more attention to the yacht than to my daughter’s safety.
It looked terrible. Even knowing the truth, seeing it displayed like that, I understood why people believed it. It looked exactly like what Sasha’s lawyer was claiming—that I was negligent, distracted, more concerned with my business than my child.
“This photo was taken at the Waverly Yacht Club,” Whitmore continued. “From their security footage. And it shows Mr. Sullivan’s complete disregard for his daughter’s safety. He’s not even watching her as she’s in clear danger of falling into the water.”
I wanted to shout that it was fake. I remembered that day. It had been nice, for one thing. And I had a grip on her life jacket the entire time. But my attorney had his hand on my arm, keeping me in my seat and silently reminding me to wait my turn.
“And worst of all, your honor,” Whitmore said, his voice dropping into a register of profound disappointment. “This incident occurred on little Daisie Sullivan’s birthday. Her father was so focused on work that he endangered his own daughter on her special day.”
The courtroom went silent. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The judge’s face was judging me. Her expression made it clear she thought I was a piece of shit. She was doing her best to look impassive, but I saw it.
It was over. I lost. I knew it the moment the judge looked at me as if she needed to verify I was the monster Sasha’s lawyer described.
The court reporter’s fingers paused over the keys to look at me. Even some of the observers in the gallery were shaking their heads.
I looked like the biggest piece of shit.
I did my best to calm my racing heart and mind. It was my biggest fear happening in real time.
Liza’s voice cut through the chaos in my mind. “That picture is a fake!”