LOVING HER TOO LATE

CHAPTER 012

Savannah's POV

The office was much colder than I had imagined.

Not the kind of cold that was caused by the weather. This was more intense. Stale air. Fluorescent lighting. Furniture that is sterile and has sharp corners. A place where people entered with hope and left with documents that could help or harm them.

My palms were wet, but my fingers felt chilly. My baby moved gently, as if feeling my anxiety. I stroked my stomach through the wool of my coat and whispered a silent promise to myself.

“I’m doing this because I care about you.”

The receptionist barely noticed me. I pointed to a frosted glass door and said, “He’s waiting for you.”

It seemed like I was moving toward a decision I couldn’t change.

I was half-ready for another lawyer to open the door and talk to me in a way that made my story seem like a bother.

Daniel stood up and greeted me with a strong, calm handshake. He wasn’t very old, but there was something about him that seemed worn. He had seen many people like me come in, holding onto something weak and calling it hope.

“Savannah,” he said, speaking softly but clearly. I have looked at all the information you shared. I trust that you are telling the truth.

It was so powerful that I almost started crying. That’s it?

I sat down before I couldn’t stand anymore. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if I would have to persuade you.

“You’ve already done it,” he replied. Now, we’ll discuss how to keep your child safe.

The words made me feel better for a moment, but the feeling didn’t stay. He then took out a folder that was so thick I thought I’d choke and said, “Ethan is smart.” That’s why we have to be more intelligent.

We got started.

I shared everything with him for hours, things I had never said to anyone before. I saw him scribble, flip through pages and type very fast. He always let me finish what I was saying. Not once. He was patient when I stumbled. When I started crying, he gave me a tissue and looked at me without wavering.

“The first time I saw Ethan outside my job,” I said, looking at the corner of the desk, “he told me he was checking in.” Just checking to see if I was okay. But he then wanted to know about my colleagues. Their names. The person I had been texting. That night, he came to my apartment. Uninvited.”

Daniel stopped writing for a moment. “Did you tell anyone about this?”

“I tried. My manager told me it wasn’t something the company was involved in. My landlord said that unless he broke a lock, there was nothing they could do. I didn’t have any evidence at the time.

“You do, now.” He pressed the folder with his finger. “We will ensure the court understands what this is all about.”

Time went by. We completed the necessary paperwork, set up a timeline and talked about hiring a private investigator to help with extra evidence. I gave the police screenshots of Ethan’s texts, his voice messages and the fake flowers he left outside that quickly wilted.

Daniel paid attention to what the angel said.

He paid attention in a way that made me feel understood. Not only as someone who was hurt. But when a mother is trying to save her child.

As the afternoon wore on, we were working under the warm glow of the desk lamp. The city was becoming gray as the day went on. The rain was hitting the window, counting down to something I didn’t know about yet.

I let out a slow breath. Is he going to challenge me, do you think?

Daniel was completely honest. He’ll try every tactic he can think of. He is very knowledgeable. He can afford to hire the best lawyers. And charm? His charm gives him a chance to think. Sympathy. Sometimes, a judge can be on your side.

I nodded, my jaw clenched. “He is skilled at playing for the long term.”

“Yes. We do the same thing. You have something that he doesn’t.”

I looked at him with a tilted head. “What?”

“You. You are the mother. You’re being honest with me.”

I felt a sense of relief, but it didn’t stay for long. Daniel took a thick book from the shelf. It seemed like it should be in a museum. The pages turned yellow and some of the corners were bent, with many red sticky tabs inside.

“There’s a section,” he said, looking through the contract. “Family law statutes are full of these rules. Not often used, but it is still correct. If a father petitions for emergency pre-birth custody because of mental health concerns, he can get temporary custody before the baby is born.

I got up from my seat. “Is that something that exists?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Usually denied. If the father can prove you are mentally or emotionally unstable, he may try to get in utero protective custody.

“It sounds too good to be true.”

He pointed at the book and turned it my way. “It’s a real thing.”

I stopped breathing for a moment.

“How could he show that?”

“Past trauma. Hospital visits. Emotional distress. Even if the panic attack is documented. He’d say the baby is in danger because of you. That he is the more responsible parent.”

I felt a chill run through my body.

“The hospital visit we had last year,” I said quietly. “When I passed out.”

Daniel gave a serious nod. He is allowed to ask for those records. If he has the right information.”

My hands shook as I held my water glass. That had nothing to do with him. I felt completely overwhelmed. I hadn’t had anything to eat.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” he said softly. “It’s not about the facts, it’s about how they can twist them.”

I looked at the grain in the wooden desk as I sat there. It seemed to me that I was surrounded by so many legal rules and old clauses that Ethan could easily manipulate.

Yet, I remembered the first time I felt my baby move inside me. I would talk to my belly during the peaceful nights. I’d already begun telling my babies bedtime stories, even though they couldn’t hear me yet.

I confessed, “I’m really scared.” “However, it’s not the same as it was before.”

Daniel looked up at me. “What’s changed?”

I don’t feel scared of him anymore. I’m worried about what will happen to this baby. And that means I’m dangerous as well.

There was a change in his eyes. He trusted me even more than before.

“Let’s do something risky,” he said, pushing the next set of papers my way.

We stayed at work late. Almost until the office was empty and the janitor arrived with a cart of supplies. I shared all the information I had with Daniel. All the times Ethan’s influence went beyond what was right. He guided me in writing a statement for the protective order and a letter asking for emergency hearing rights. Every page seemed to protect me.

“I’ll handle all this as soon as I get to work tomorrow,” Daniel said. Savannah, please be careful. He will not treat this situation with indifference.

“I understand,” I replied. “I am not either.”

He gave me a direct phone number. I wrote the number down twice: once on a card and once on a sticky note that I could keep in my wallet.

In case something happens.

After leaving the building, I felt more stable, as if I had finally touched the ground. I felt safe and protected by my coat. I felt tired, but my mind was still clear.

Until I heard my phone vibrate.

Unknown number.

I was prepared for spam.

I received a message that made me freeze in fear.

I am watching your every move.

Only five words are needed. They were enough to make me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

My fingers became very cold.

I slowly walked around, looking up at the rooftops, under parked cars and at the figure near the bus stop across the street.

No face.

No sound.

Just the sensation.

He was close by.

I hesitated with my thumb on Daniel’s number and decided to call.

He answered the phone on the first try.

I whispered, “Daniel,” as I walked backward until I was pressed against the building. He sent me a text message. From a source that is not known. He told me......he said he’s watching me.

“What was the message?”

I looked at the message.

There was a moment of silence.

Go back inside the building. Now. Make sure the door is locked. I’ll notify the building security and have the local police do a drive-by.

I whispered, “I think I saw something.” On the other side of the street. A shape. I feel like someone is watching me.

I turned and prepared to run away.

However, there was a brief flash of light just past the edge of the building. Someone moving in the alley. Not a complete figure. Just a tiny bit. A coat. A shadow that disappeared as soon as I looked at it.

“Daniel,” I told him, “he’s almost here.” He’s here.”

“Stay away from it,” he said with certainty. Remain close to the entrance. I’m on my way down.”

I grabbed the door handle.

Then, a voice came.

Soft. Too soft.

Just behind me.

“You’re leaving already, Savannah?”

I spun.

No one.

There was no one on the street.

Only the lights flickering and a trash bin rolling slowly in the wind.

Or was it the wind that made the sound?

I was breathing so fast it felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. I held the door handle, but everything seemed unreal. Or sinking.

What if I tried to hear the voice in my mind?

What if he is inside the house right now?

What if he was already here, in my apartment, reading the note I wrote to myself this morning? What if he had never left?

What if this wasn’t the start of a battle...

But the start of something that would be much, much worse?