A moment later, the side door opened, and Callum was led in by two federal marshals.

He was not in handcuffs, but his movements were stiff and restrained.

His eyes scanned the room, bypassing the reporters and the lawyers until they locked onto me.

His gaze was cold, filled with a desperate, silent fury that made my skin prickle.

He sat down at the defense table, his hands trembling as he shuffled through a stack of papers.

“All rise,” the bailiff called out.

Judge Elaine Mallory entered from her chambers, her black robes billowing slightly behind her.

She took her place on the bench, her sharp eyes scanning the courtroom before she sat down.

“Be seated,” she said.

The room fell instantly silent, the only sound the rustle of paper from the clerk’s desk.

“We are here on an emergency motion regarding the temporary custody of the unborn child of Avery and Callum Prescott,” Judge Mallory began.

She adjusted her glasses, looking down at the documents in front of her.

“Mr. Voss, I understand there have been significant developments since our last session.”