He talked about Julian's income first because men like Julian believed money became a character trait once it hit a certain figure. He described the house in Greenwich, its fenced yard, the nursery, the security system, the proximity to top-rated schools, as if Lilia were enrolling in kindergarten, not just learning to hold her head up. He didn't mention that the nursery had sat empty for 3 weeks after I left. He didn't mention that I had been the one to buy the crib, wash the sheets, arrange the tiny clothes by size, and sit on the floor at midnight assembling a mobile while Julian was drinking champagne in a hotel bar with Sloan.
He showed the judge photos of Julian's house, the sun-drenched living room, the white crib, the changing table, a shelf of untouched board books. The photos looked perfect. I knew they were taken after I moved out. The plush elephant hanging on the crib still had the store tag on it.
Mr. Callaway has prepared a safe and welcoming environment, Marcus said. Hope made another note. Staged. Then came the attack.
Marcus presented screenshots of text messages I had sent Julian in the first month after Lilia was born. I can't do this alone anymore. Please pick up. She has a fever and I'm scared.
I haven't slept in 2 days. I need help. He read them in a tone that made fear sound like instability. Your honor, these messages show a pattern of Miss Barlo being overwhelmed and emotionally volatile.
My fingers tightened on Lilia's blanket. I remembered sending the one about the fever at 2:13 a.m. Lilia's skin was burning.
Her breathing was rapid. Her tiny body was curled in discomfort. I had called Julian seven times. He didn't answer.
Hope would show where he was later, but not yet. Courts had a rhythm. Hope had warned me. Let them overplay their hand, she'd said.
People who lie too much usually trap themselves. So, I sat still. Marcus clicked a remote and a video appeared on a screen near the judge. My living room, a corner of the couch, my face pale and puffy with exhaustion.
Lilia crying in my arms. I was crying too, silently. My hair was a mess. I looked devastated.
I looked scared. I had been scared. I knew the video. Julian had recorded it that night without telling me.
He had come in after midnight while I was trying to soothe Lilia through a bout of collic. I'd asked him to take her for 10 minutes so I could shower. Instead, he stood in the doorway angling his phone. "You need to see yourself, " he'd said.
In the video, my voice broke. "Please stop recording me. " The courtroom was silent. Sloan looked down as if she were embarrassed for me.
Julian looked wounded, as if my pain was an inconvenience to him. Marcus let the video play for a few more seconds before stopping it. Your honor, this is the environment my client is concerned about. My face burned, but not with shame.
Shame was Julian's favorite tool, and I had spent too many nights scrubbing it out of my system. This was something sharper. This was anger with a spine. Judge McCarthy looked at me, her expression soft.
Miss Barlo, are you able to continue? I lifted my chin. Yes, your honor, Lilia stirred. I shifted her gently, keeping my voice even.
Marcus went on. We also intend to show that Miss Barlo has alienated Mr. Callaway from the child by refusing reasonable visitation. Hope's head came up.
Objection. Mischaracterization. The existing temporary agreement required Mr. Callaway to confirm visits 24 hours in advance. He repeatedly failed to do so.
Marcus smiled thinly. We dispute that. I have no doubt, Hope said. Judge McCarthy glanced over her glasses.
Objection overruled, Miss Stratton. But the court has heard you. Julian leaned toward Marcus and whispered something. Sloan put a hand on his shoulder.
A small, tender performance of support. The diamond on her finger flashed again. It wasn't an engagement ring. Not officially.
Julian was too careful for that while the divorce was pending. But Sloan wore it for a reason. She wanted me to watch. I watched.
I remembered the $15,000 bank transfer to a jewelry salon 2 days before Julian told me we couldn't afford a night nurse. Marcus called Julian to the stand first. He took the witness chair with the controlled sadness of a man who had rehearsed the part of being misunderstood. Mr. Callaway, Marcus said, "Could you describe your concerns about Miss Barlo's ability to care for Lilia?"
Julian exhaled slowly. "I want to start by saying is not a bad person. It was how Julian always began any public cruelty. A compliment at the door, a knife in the hall."
She's been under a lot of pressure. " After Lilia was born, she became anxious, suspicious. She isolated herself. She refused help."
I nearly opened my mouth. Refused help? I had begged for it. Hope's pen tapped her notepad once.
A reminder. Wait. Julian continued. I tried to be patient, but she made it impossible.
She accused me. She wouldn't let me see my daughter unless I followed unreasonable rules. Marcus nodded. What kinds of rules?
She wanted everything in writing. Times confirmed. She wouldn't let me bring anyone with me. Anyone?
Julian hesitated. Sloan. Marcus looked towards Sloan with careful sympathy. Why did you want Miss Vaughn to be present?
Julian's face softened as he looked at the judge. There are going to be new people in Lilia's life. I don't think it's healthy for a to control that out of jealousy. Jealousy was a cheap little word.
It could shrink all of a woman's evidence down to a single emotion if the right people believed it. Marcus asked, "Did Miss Barlo ever make statements suggesting she wasn't coping? " Julian nodded many times. She said she couldn't do it, that she was breaking, that she hated her life.
My throat tightened. I had said those words after three sleepless nights when Julian came home at dawn and complained that the apartment smelled like milk. I didn't hate Lilia. I hated being abandoned next to her.
Marcus lowered his voice. "Did that frighten you? " "Yes, " Julian said. "For Lilia."