Every bump in the linoleum floor sent a sharp ache through my stitched flesh.

But I held my head up, my eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

We arrived at the family court building twenty minutes before the hearing.

The hallway outside Courtroom 302 was lined with polished wood paneling that smelled of lemon wax and old paper.

At the far end of the hall stood Margaret Parker.

She was wearing a tailored navy suit, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, not a single strand out of place.

Ryan stood beside her, looking pale and slightly hungover, wearing a dark gray designer suit.

He wouldn’t look at me.

He kept his eyes glued to the polished leather of his shoes.

“Just ignore them,” Victoria whispered, pushing my wheelchair past them toward the heavy double doors of the courtroom.

As we passed, Margaret stepped forward, her voice a low, venomous hiss.

“This didn’t have to be public, Emma,” she said. “You should have accepted the settlement.”

I didn’t answer.

I kept my hands folded over the blanket on my lap, my fingers touching the small plastic hospital band still wrapped around my wrist.