“Oh, Maddie,” she whispered. “He’s perfect.”
Madison looked down at her son.
“He is.”
James was her father’s middle name.
Ethan had kept saying they had time to decide.
They had not had as much time as he thought.
By morning, Rebecca had filed the first documents they had prepared.
It was not a final divorce.
It was not a revenge fantasy.
It was a legal-separation petition, a request to preserve marital accounts from unusual withdrawals, and temporary boundaries around medical communication and future custody conversations.
Everything was measured.
Everything had dates.
Everything had signatures.
