“But the state board already has a copy of these files.”

Olivia let out a sharp, choked sound from the corner of the room.

She was clutching her designer handbag against her chest like a shield.

“Margaret,” Olivia whispered, her voice trembling.

“You said this was all handled.”

“You said there were no paper trails.”

Margaret did not turn her head to look at Olivia.

“Be quiet, Olivia,” Margaret said coldly.

“Let the adults resolve this.”

Olivia’s face drained of what little color it had left.

She took a step back, her high heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

“You told me we were a family,” Olivia said, her voice rising in pitch.

“You told me that if I carried the baby, you would make sure I was taken care of forever.”

I watched Olivia’s hands shake as she looked from Margaret to the crying man beside her.

“Ethan,” Olivia pleaded, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Ethan, look at me.”

Ethan did not raise his head from his hands; his shoulders just shook harder.

“He won’t help you, Olivia,” I said, my voice steady despite the anger burning in my chest.