“An airport he claimed, under oath, he had no intention of visiting today.”

“That was a mistake by my pilot,” Grant muttered.

“Your pilot does not sign your flight manifests, Mr. Whitmore,” the judge said.

She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk.

“You attempted to remove a six-year-old child from this jurisdiction during an active custody dispute.”

“And you lied about your location for nine critical minutes to cover your tracks.”

“The court does not take kindly to perjury, nor does it tolerate parental kidnapping.”

I felt a tear slip down my cheek and wiped it away quickly.

Nathan’s hand found mine under the table, his fingers warm and solid.

“Therefore,” Judge Vance said, “this court is issuing an immediate order.”

She picked up her pen again, signing three separate sheets of paper with bold, heavy strokes.

“Grant Whitmore’s visitation rights are hereby suspended indefinitely.”

Grant slammed his fist on the table.

“You can’t do that!” he shouted.

“Mr. Whitmore, sit down or I will have the bailiff detain you,” Judge Vance said, her voice icy.