Reasonable Doubt: Volume 3 (Reasonable Doubt 3)

“Something you’ll never need.” I countered. “Everyone behind bars shares the same level of popularity.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to give you a few days to come to your senses.”

“Or else what?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that.” She walked out, slamming the door behind her—waking Emma.

She looked at me with her bright blue eyes, smiling. “Can I go play?”

I nodded, unable to even speak. Carrying her to the balcony, I didn’t even bother grabbing an umbrella for myself. I set her down and helped her into a coat, trying not to think about what Ava could possibly have up her sleeve.

Emma tilted her head up to the sky and swallowed raindrops, and then she dashed away from me—running in circles.

A loud thunder roared in the distance, and as if she could tell what I was about to say, she looked at me with a wide grin. “Five more minutes!”

The New York Times didn’t waste any time printing the story. Well, stories.

Henderson & Hart, Revered Law Firm, Embroiled in Scandal.

Hart Agrees to Cooperate Against Henderson, Following Brutal Bar Brawl.

Henderson Arrested, Questioned, After Wife Claims Recent Domestic Abuse.

The only story they didn’t mention, out of a hanging thread of respect, was my losing custody of Emma. Of me having to hand her over to Kevin.

I was innocent of every charge I faced, but due to the fact that I’d bashed Kevin’s head in, and Ava had claimed I was just as violent with her, it left the judge no choice but to put her in custody with her supposed “loving and biological father per the mother’s request.”

I thought it would only be for a week or two, a month at most, but as the charges piled up and the cases were trudged through the courts at a snail’s pace, the months wore on and on.

To make matters worse, Kevin and Ava purposely took Emma to places they knew I frequented: My favorite place at Central Park, my spot on the Brooklyn Bridge, my favorite restaurants.

In between my court appearances, I followed them to the park—resisting the urge to yell at them for letting her get too close to the streets, holding back the urge to take her back and flee the state.

Instead, I filed injunction after injunction—fighting multiple cases at once. I searched through every loophole of custody, documenting cases after case of non-biological fathers retaining rights.

Eventually the truth about Ava and Kevin’s scheme began to surface, and on the same day that Ava confessed to lying about me beating her—when she admitted that she’d made that all up, I won custody of Emma.

It was three days before her fourth birthday, so I arranged for a few of her neighborhood friends to come by with their parents. The theme was the rainforest, of course, and the party favors were umbrellas and rain-boots.

Kevin, still foolishly proclaiming his innocence in regards to the fraud, had grown quite attached to her over the past few months. He asked if he could still see her on the weekends once he returned her to me, but I didn’t even bother answering that question.

He’d seen her long enough.

Standing outside my brownstone, I called him two hours before her birthday party, making sure he was still dropping her off on time. Instead of talking to me like an adult, he made Emma repeat his every word to me.

“We’ll be there soon,” she said, a smile in her soft voice. “Can you please let us enjoy our last few hours alone? She’s my daughter, too.”

“See you soon, Emma.”

“Goodbye, Daddy!” She hung up and I rearranged the party decorations for the umpteenth time, greeting the early guests and directing them into the living room.

Half an hour passed.

A whole hour.

Two.

I called Kevin, annoyed that he was pulling this bullshit of a stunt—as if it was even half as difficult as it had been for me, but there was no answer.