A woman in a dark green coat sat in the back row of the gallery, her head bowed.

It was Rebecca.

She had arrived alone, her face pale, her fingers clutching a paper tissue.

She looked up at me, and I gave her a small, brief nod before sitting down.

The bailiff called the court to order, and Judge Marcus Miller took the bench.

He was a stout man with thick glasses and a reputation for being thorough.

“We are here today on a petition for visitation filed by Mr. Thomas Harper,” Judge Miller began, looking over his spectacles. “I have read the initial petition, and I have read the response from the respondent.”

Thomas’s lawyer stood up immediately.

“Your Honor, my client simply wishes to establish a relationship with his biological daughter,” the lawyer said. “He has been kept from her for sixteen years by the grandmother, who has fostered an environment of alienation.”

I felt my jaw tighten, but Mr. Harrison touched my forearm to keep me still.