Chapter 4 - The Counterstrike
I stood on the cold stone steps outside Riverside Medical Center, the morning wind biting through my thin sweater. In my hands, I clutched the legal envelope ordering me to abandon my daughter while she lay cut open on an operating table three floors above me.
I fell onto a stone bench, burying my face in my hands, sobbing so hard my body shook violently. I was penniless. Homeless. Barred from holding my daughter's hand when she woke up from anesthesia.
"Mrs. Thorne!"
A sharp, authoritative voice called out from the glass doors of the medical center entrance.
A woman in a dark tailored pant-suit and crisp trench coat came striding toward me. She carried an iPad in one hand and a thick manila folder in the other. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and blazing with righteous fury.
"Are you Clara Thorne?" she asked, stopping in front of my bench.
"Yes," I rasped, wiping my soaked face. "Who are you?"
"I’m Sarah Jenkins," she said, extending a hand. "I’m a senior partner at Jenkins & Associates, specializing in high-conflict pediatric advocacy and domestic abuse law. Eleanor Vance from Social Services called my cell phone twenty minutes ago. She told me what Arthur Pendelton just pulled in the waiting room."
I looked at her blankly. "I can't afford a lawyer, Ms. Jenkins. My husband emptied our bank accounts. I have fourteen dollars to my name."
Sarah Jenkins scoffed, pulling a gold pen from her pocket. "Mrs. Thorne, I don't give a damn about your fourteen dollars. Arthur Pendelton has been a thorn in my side for ten years, using scumbag tactics to help abusive men strip mothers of their children. When Eleanor told me your husband tried to let a fifteen-year-old girl die of a ruptured teratoma to save a deductible, I took your case pro bono before I even finished my morning coffee."
She sat down beside me, opening her iPad with a brisk tap.
"Now, listen to me carefully, Clara," Sarah said, her voice like a steady anchor in a hurricane. "Pendelton filed an ex-parte motion, meaning he lied to Judge Sterling by claiming you were experiencing a psychotic break and had hidden Maya from her father without cause. He deliberately omitted the medical diagnosis from his emergency petition."
"He lied to a judge?" I asked.
"It’s perjury, medical fraud, and legal misconduct," Sarah stated grimly. "I’m already filing an emergency counter-petition with the Chief Presiding Judge of the Family Division. Dr. Lawson is currently signing an emergency affidavit confirming that Maya’s condition was a life-threatening medical emergency. Detective Miller has already filed felony child endangerment charges against Robert with the District Attorney's Office."
She handed me a bottle of water and a protein bar from her bag.
"Eat," Sarah ordered gently. "Because in two hours, we are going into Judge Sterling’s courtroom, and we are going to burn Robert Thorne’s legal defense to the ground."
Just then, my phone chimed with an incoming text from the PICU nurse’s station:
SURGERY COMPLETE. MASS SUCCESSFULLY REMOVED. MAYA IS IN RECOVERY AND STABLE.
I sank back against the bench, tears of pure relief flooding my eyes. The monster inside my daughter was gone. She was alive. She was safe.
May you like
Sarah Jenkins stood up, buttoning her trench coat, her face set like stone.
"Now that Maya is safe," Sarah said, looking toward the city courthouse looming three blocks away, "it’s time to make Robert Thorne pay for every single tear you and your daughter have shed."
