(Caroline's POV)
Saturday evening arrives with all the inevitability of a death sentence.
I stand in front of Aunt Jasmine's full-length mirror, smoothing down the navy blue dress I haven't worn in over a year. It's conservative, elegant—the kind of outfit Samuel always liked me to wear to family functions. The kind that says "proper wife" and "good mother" without saying anything at all about who I actually am.
My hands are shaking as I fasten the pearl necklace—another gift from Samuel, from better days that now feel like they belonged to a different person entirely.
"You don't have to do this," Jasmine says from the doorway.
"Yes, I do." I meet her eyes in the mirror. "He has Charlie. What choice do I have?"
"We could go to court Monday morning. File an emergency custody motion—"
