Nobody was pretending this could all be solved by rich people snapping their fingers.
There were rules.
There were courts.
There were decisions I would have to make.
I looked at Luca.
“If I go with you, am I hiding from him?”
“No,” he said. “You’re leaving an airport without having an argument in front of your daughter.”
That was enough.
“All right.”
We were escorted down a service corridor and through a side exit used for private ground transportation.
Outside, three black SUVs waited.
I felt ridiculous climbing into one with a stroller.
Then, through the glass doors of the terminal, I saw David.
He saw me too.
His whole face changed.
He started moving toward us.
One of the investigators followed.
Airport security stopped them before they reached the restricted door.
David pointed at me.
Even through thick glass, I knew exactly what he was shouting.
Blaire.
