“I have every right to—”
“You have the right to collect your son. You do not have the right to stand in this apartment and make my daughter cry.” His voice hasn’t changed volume. It’s dropped register. Lower. Quieter. The kind of quiet that makes people stop talking. “I told you what would happen if you did this again.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“I’m telling you that this is the last time you hurt my family. I have a custody petition drafted. Full. Not shared. My lawyer filed the paperwork two days ago. It is sitting with a judge waiting for one reason to be activated.” He holds her gaze. “You just gave me one.”
Jessica’s face tightens. The composure holds but the seams are showing the slight flare of her nostrils, the cords in her neck, the way her fingers grip Mason’s hand too hard.
