The Poisoned Cradle and the Mother Who Tried to Steal Our Child
“Those are legal documents, prepared for your family’s protection,” Vance said.
“This is fraud,” I said. “Megan has never touched drugs in her life.”
Vance stepped further into the room, his leather shoes silent on the rug.
“Your mother is a very wealthy woman, Jake,” he said softly.
“She is a criminal,” I said. “She tried to poison my wife.”
Vance did not blink.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses.
“Your mother is currently in custody, yes,” Vance said.
“But that is a temporary setback.”
“A misunderstanding by the local police.”
I took a step backward, my heel hitting the edge of the changing table.
“She built a nursery in her house,” I said, gesturing to the yellow walls.
“She planned this for months.”
“She was going to take our baby and lock us out.”
Vance sighed, a soft, whistling sound.
“She was preparing for the inevitable,” Vance said.
“Your wife is unstable, Jake.”
“The medical records in that folder prove she is unfit to care for a child.”
“These are fake!” I shouted, slamming the folder down on the changing table.