“Maybe he will. But if you go down there and put your hands on him, you’ll be in a jail cell before lunch. And then who protects that baby?”
I froze.
Deacon held my gaze.
“Your sister made a plan, son. Don’t destroy it because you’re hurting.”
The elevator chimed.
Tyler stepped out first, wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt and carrying the red-eyed expression of a grieving young father.
For one brief moment, I almost believed him.
Then Wade Haskins emerged behind him, looking perfectly composed in a golf jacket. Their lawyer followed with a polished briefcase.
“I’m here for my daughter,” Tyler announced.
His voice cracked at exactly the right moment.
Ms. Ortiz stepped forward.
“Mr. Haskins, you are not listed on the birth certificate, and a legal guardianship designation is on file. If you wish to challenge those arrangements, you’ll need to do so through the court.”
The lawyer immediately began discussing paternity rights.
