The air in Courtroom Six tasted like stale paper and floor wax.

Rain smeared the high, arched windows of the Montgomery County courthouse, blurring the gray Maryland sky.

I sat at the wooden defense table alone.

My hands were clasped tightly in my lap, tucked beneath the hem of a plain blue cardigan.

Across the aisle, Gavin looked like a man who had already won.

His charcoal suit was custom-tailored, his dark hair parted with mathematical precision.

Beside him sat Philip Dane, his high-priced lead counsel, who was busy organizing a stack of thick, leather-bound folders.

In the gallery row directly behind them sat Sloane Pierce.

She wore a pale cream blazer and kept her eyes fixed on the back of Gavin’s head.

Every few minutes, she adjusted her gold watch, the metal catching the harsh fluorescent light.

“Mr. Rourke,” Judge Marian Beckett said, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

She sat high on the bench, her gray hair pulled back in a severe, tight bun.

“We are here today to address physical and legal custody of Nolan and Parker Rourke.”

“My client is prepared to offer generous visitation, Your Honor,” Philip Dane said, rising.

He smiled, a practiced expression of pity directed toward my empty table.

“But as outlined in the prenuptial agreement, Mrs. Rourke has no claim to the marital home or the assets of Rourke Regional Mobility.”

“And Mrs. Rourke is representing herself?” Judge Beckett asked, looking down at me over her reading glasses.

“Yes, Your Honor,” I said.

My voice was quiet, but it did not shake.

Gavin let out a soft, wet sound from his nose—a half-laugh he didn’t bother to hide.

Sloane leaned forward in her pew, her red fingernails tapping against the oak barrier.

“Let the record reflect that the defendant is appearing pro se,” Judge Beckett said, writing something down on her pad.

She looked back at me, her face expressionless.

“Mrs. Rourke, do you have a response to the custody proposal?”

“I do, Your Honor,” I said.

I stood up, smoothing the front of my skirt.

My palms were damp, but my fingers were steady as I reached into my canvas bag.