“Was it my mother?”

Ms. Vance turned to face him, her expression unchanged.

“Mr. Sullivan, I am here to investigate a report of child neglect,” she said.

“I cannot discuss the source of the report.”

“It was her,” Leo said, his fist clenching at his side.

“She cleared out our bank accounts this morning, and now she’s doing this.”

“Your financial situation is not my concern,” Ms. Vance said.

“However, a lack of resources to provide for the child will be factored into our assessment.”

She looked at Leo’s clenched fist, then back to her clipboard.

“Are you refusing to cooperate with this investigation, Mr. Sullivan?” she asked.

The air in the room felt thick and suffocating.

Outside, the rain beat harder against the glass, casting long, dark shadows across the floor.

Leo looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of terror and rage.

We had no money.

We had no home of our own.

And now, the state was questioning whether we were fit to keep our son.

“We are cooperating,” Leo said, his voice shaking as he tried to force himself to calm down.