Robert paused long enough to meet my eyes. “Take care of yourself,” he said quietly.
It was not enough.
Still, it was the first humane sentence anyone in that family besides Ethan had spoken to me since the divorce.
After they left, I texted Catherine immediately.
Carol came to the apartment. She demanded the baby be moved to the family home and said a mother can be replaced. She threatened court. Robert was present. Mrs. Gable witnessed.
Catherine called in less than ten minutes.
“Good,” she said.
I blinked. “Good?”
“Not that it happened. Good that you documented it immediately while details are fresh. You’re building a pattern.”
I sat on the sofa with Leo in my arms and listened while she walked me through the next steps.
Photograph every document.
Back up every message.
Maintain the care log.
Do not engage emotionally.
If anyone makes a threat, memorialize it in writing.
By that night, I had a binder with dividers:
MOTHER — MEDICAL
BABY — MEDICAL
EXPENSES
MESSAGES
VISITS / INCIDENTS
It looked absurdly formal beside a bassinet and burp cloths.
But it made me feel less helpless.
When Ethan texted—Did my mother visit?—I responded with a factual summary and nothing more.