Chapter 6 - MY FATHER KNOCKED ON THE DOOR
Elias did not call.
He came to the temporary apartment Dana’s organization arranged.
He stood outside holding nothing.
No flowers.
No dramatic speech.
Just my father.
I opened the door.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said.
“I didn’t know if I was allowed to come.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re a judge.”
“I meant as your father.”
That hurt.
I stepped aside.
He entered.
His eyes moved around the small apartment.
Secondhand sofa.
Baby supplies.
Boxes.
He looked older than he had in court.
“Coffee?”
I asked.
“Yes.”
I made it because doing something with my hands felt easier than talking.
He sat at the kitchen table.
Finally he said.
“I owe you an apology.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“The last thing I said to you.”
I remembered every word.
If you leave with that man, do not expect me to finance the consequences.
“You were right about Marcus.”
“That doesn’t make what I said right.”
I looked away.
“You warned me.”
“I punished you for not obeying the warning.”
The distinction stunned me.
He continued.
“I told myself I was respecting your decision.”
“Then I waited for you to come back.”
“Years passed.”
“I convinced myself silence was pride.”
“Maybe it was cowardice.”
My eyes burned.
“I thought you hated me.”
His face broke.
“Nora.”
“I never hated you.”
“I was angry.”
“Then stubborn.”
“Then ashamed that too much time had passed.”
I laughed through tears.
“So we both spent seven years being idiots.”
He smiled.
“Apparently it runs in the family.”
For the first time since I was twenty-three, I hugged my father.
It was awkward.
Then it wasn’t.
Afterward, he asked.
“What can I do?”
I had expected money.
Lawyers.
Connections.
Instead, the question was open.
I answered.
“Nothing with the case.”
“Agreed.”
“Don’t call judges.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t call prosecutors.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t make this disappear.”
His eyes met mine.
“I can promise that.”
I took a breath.
“Then be my dad.”
He nodded.
“I’d like that.”
Before leaving, Elias stopped near the door.
“There is one thing you should know.”
“What?”
“Marcus’s attorneys have already contacted the judicial ethics office.”
I frowned.
“About you?”
“They are suggesting my recusal somehow prejudiced the reassignment.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Yes.”
“But predictable.”
He looked at me carefully.
“Marcus may try to make me the story.”
I understood.
If Marcus could convince people my father was secretly influencing things, every legitimate ruling could look contaminated.
“What do we do?”
Elias gave me the answer I needed.
“Nothing.”
“He can investigate me.”
“He can subpoena records.”
“He can examine calls.”
“He will find what actually happened.”
“You walked into my courtroom by chance.”
“I recused.”
“And after that, I stayed out.”
He put on his coat.
“Truth is slower than influence.”
“But it ages better.”
Then he left.
An hour later, Dana called.
Marcus had filed for emergency custody of our unborn child.
Not after birth.
Now.
He was asking the court to establish medical oversight because, according to his petition, I was mentally unstable and potentially dangerous to the pregnancy.
He attached Dr. Mercer’s records.
May you like
Marcus had made his first major move.
Exactly the one the hidden cameras had predicted.
