The prosecutor, an assistant district attorney named Miller, stood up slowly.

She adjusted her glasses and looked directly at the judge.

“Your Honor, we have evidence that directly refutes the defense’s claims of suitability,” Miller said.

She held up a small black flash drive.

“We have a recording taken inside the hospital room on the night of the incident,” she said.

Patricia’s attorney frowned, leaning down to whisper to Patricia.

Patricia shook her head quickly, her lips forming a tight line.

“The defense was not made aware of any such recording,” her attorney protested.

“It was recovered and authenticated by federal investigators just hours ago,” Miller replied.

Judge Henderson waved her hand. “Play it, counselor.”

Miller plugged the drive into the court’s media system.

The speakers on the wall crackled to life with static.

Then, Patricia’s voice filled the room, sharp and unmistakable.

“You will sign the custody papers, Hannah, or you will never see this child outside of a foster home,” the recording played.

The courtroom went entirely silent.

“We control the money, and we control Ethan,” the voice continued, cold and mocking. “You are nothing but a surrogate for us.”