“That choice is yours.
Whether you become part of our lives afterward will be ours.”
I nodded.
For once, I did not negotiate.
When it was time to leave, I handed our son back and picked up the folder.
Outside, two federal officers waited to escort me to court.
Brin watched from the doorway.
Nine months earlier, I had walked away while she begged me not to decide her future.
This time, I walked toward the consequences alone.
She remained behind with our child in her arms, choosing her own home, her own conditions, and her own life.
My empire did not survive that hospital.
Brin did.
And as the elevator doors closed between us, I understood that her survival was not my redemption.
It was her victory.
