Chapter 7 - The Final Judgment
Judge Thornton adjusted her glasses, looking down at the papers before her.
"You abandoned your daughter when she was immobilized with two eleven-week-old infants," the judge stated, her voice echoing off the wood-paneled walls. "You violated federal privacy laws to spy on her financial settlement. You recruited a man who abandoned his pregnant partner, promising him a piece of a settlement that was never yours to touch."
"Your Honor—" Arthur Vance tried to interject.
"Sit down, Mr. Vance!" Judge Thornton snapped. "If you utter another word, I will cite you for contempt and refer you to the state bar ethics committee for filing a frivolous, bad-faith petition!"
Vance sat down instantly, dropping his pen and backing away from Finanella.
Judge Thornton turned her attention to Trued.
"Mr. Trued. You claim you want to be a father?" Judge Thornton asked.
Trued stammered, looking terrified. "I... I wanted to help..."
"If you wish to establish legal paternity, you will do the following," Judge Thornton commanded. "You will immediately undergo a court-ordered DNA test. Upon confirmation, you will be assessed for six months of retroactive child support based on full regional guidelines, plus medical expenses. You will complete fifty hours of certified parenting classes. And if—and only if—you fulfill those requirements, you may petition for two hours of weekly, court-supervised visitation at a licensed facility at your own expense."
Trued’s jaw dropped. "Two hours? At my own expense? But I live in Ohio!"
"Then I suggest you buy a bus ticket," Judge Thornton said coldly. "Or sign a formal, permanent surrender of parental rights today."
Trued didn't hesitate for three seconds.
He reached for a pen on Vance’s table, grabbed the parental surrender document Marcus had prepared, signed his name in jagged, frantic strokes, and threw the pen down.
"I'm out," Trued muttered, pulling his jacket off the chair and sprinting out of the courtroom without looking back once.
Finanella sat alone at her table, her mouth open, her country club prestige completely destroyed in front of a court reporter.
Judge Thornton turned her final, stern gaze onto my mother.
"As for you, Mrs. Finanella," Judge Thornton said, signing a series of documents with a heavy black pen. "I am issuing a permanent, five-year Restraining Order of Protection. You are ordered to stay at least 1,000 feet away from Sable, Rowena, Beckett, and their residence, childcare providers, and places of employment."
"She’s my daughter!" Finanella cried out, tears finally breaking through her makeup—tears of anger and humiliation, not regret. "They are my grandchildren!"
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"You forfeited the right to call yourself a mother the day you left her in that hospital bed for a golf tournament," Judge Thornton declared, striking her gavel down with a thunderous CRACK.
"Court is adjourned."
