The review was moved up. Grant petitioned for an emergency session, and Hayes had no procedural grounds to block it. Three weeks after the photo. Eleven weeks and four days into the pregnancy, according to the scan I'd had that morning.
The scan I'd brought with me. Sealed. Dated. Signed.
Owen and I arrived together. He wore the same suit he'd worn the night I found out, which I noticed because I notice everything and because I'd helped him into it. He looked tired. He looked steady. He looked like a man walking into a fight he'd chosen.
The committee was already seated. Miriam at the head of the table, impassive. The two old men, alert in the way of old men who've learned that alertness is cheaper than trust. Hayes, with his papers squared. Grant, leaning back, watching the door.
He s
