Chapter Forty-Three
HOLT“Where the hell is she?” I whisper to my lawyer, Gil, with another glance at the empty side of the table.
Calling him my lawyer is an understatement. Today, it’s more like he is the head of a fleet of lawyers, all six of whom I am paying a small fortune to make sure I walk out of this room with full custody of the boy who has been kept from me for the last ten years.
Ten years… That number won’t stop looping over and over in my head.
But neither will the melody from “Jahraymecofasola,” the first song on the playlist Sylvie sent me.
“How long do we have until failure to appear?” Gil asks the retired judge seated at the end of the long conference table.
“I’ll give her another fifteen minutes,” the judge decides after glancing at her watch.
Gil nods agreeably, b
