“You’ll be living in a rented apartment in some run-down town, struggling to pay for groceries.”

“I don’t care about your money, Julian,” I said.

“I care about my son.”

“And right now, you are proving to a judge that you are a threat to his safety.”

“I am his father!” Julian shouted, his control finally snapping.

His voice echoed off the rocks and the water below.

Harrison began to cry, the loud sound cutting through the cold air.

I lifted Harrison out of the swing, holding him tight against my shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” I whispered, rubbing his back.

Julian took another step toward us, his face twisted in rage.

“Give him to me,” he demanded.

“Don’t touch him,” a new voice called out.

I looked past Julian.

David, the investigator, had stepped out of the black SUV.

He was walking toward us, his camera still raised, clicking rapidly.

“Sir, you need to step back,” David said, his voice calm and authoritative.

Julian turned to face him, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Get that camera out of my face,” Julian spat.