I clenched my jaw, blinking away the sting behind my eyes. “Don’t sit here and pretend your relationship was built on anything but betrayal.”
“Call it what you want.” She shrugged, then slid the folder onto the table and flipped it open. “But it doesn’t change the facts. Zach filed for primary custody. He wants Liam to live with us.”
Us.
That word sliced deeper than it should have. “He is my son,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to take him and play house.”
She didn’t blink. “He’s our son now. At least, he will be.”
I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Celine pulled something from her folder. A small photograph. She placed it in front of me. I bit my inner cheek, holding back my tears.
“I’m twelve weeks,” she said, her tone light, almost smug. “A little surprise. Zach is over the moon.”
My breath hitched. I didn’t want to look, but I did. A blurry little bean floating in a sea of static glossy paper. My hands trembled slightly as I pushed it back toward her.
“You’re delusional if you think this baby gives you a claim over Liam.”