Millicent violently knocks Rosalie's dinner plate onto the floor, grabs the pregnant woman by the arm, and pulls her away from the table.

The 48 hours passed.

Millicent did not withdraw the paternity filing.

Caleb's attorney did not drop the trust motion.

What arrived instead, at 9 a.m.

on the second morning, was a formal letter from a new attorney Rosalie had never heard of — a firm with a long name and an address in the financial district — informing her that Millicent Vane intended to pursue an emergency guardianship petition on the grounds that Rosalie was an emotionally unstable new mother who had fled the family home in a dangerous condition while in active labor.

Dara read the letter aloud.

When she finished, she set it down very carefully on the table.

"Emotionally unstable," she said.

"Yes."

"You.

Who negotiated calmly with your husband twelve hours after giving birth."

"Apparently."

Giancarlo's attorney, a compact woman named Sylvia Okafor who wore reading glasses on a chain and spoke in complete sentences with no wasted words, arrived at the room forty minutes later.

She read the letter standing up.

"They're accelerating," Sylvia said.

"The emergency petition moves faster than the trust hearing.

If a judge grants it even temporarily, it complicates your custody position while the larger case is pending."

"Can they get it granted?" Rosalie asked.

"Not easily.

Emergency guardianship requires evidence of immediate harm to the child.

They have none.

But they'll manufacture a narrative — the flight from the home, the unknown man, the private facility — and they'll try to make it sound alarming to the right judge." Sylvia set the letter on the table beside Dara's.

"We need to move today."

"What do we file?"

"Everything.

Counter to the emergency petition.

Full documentation of the custody pre-assignment, the trust restructure, and the internal communications.

We also file a formal complaint against the second attorney with the state bar." She looked at Rosalie over her glasses.

"And we use the recording."

"Caleb didn't consent to being recorded."

"In this state, one-party consent applies.

You were a party to the conversation.

The recording is admissible." Sylvia picked up her bag.

"I'll need you to authorize everything by noon."

"You have it."

Sylvia left.

Dara looked at Rosalie.

"She's terrifying," Dara said.

"Good."

Nora, entirely indifferent to the legal proceedings surrounding her first days of life, made a sound from the bassinet.

Rosalie went to her.

The authorization went through at 11:40.

Sylvia filed at 12:15.

By 3 p.m., Rosalie had received notification that the emergency petition had been assigned to a judge and a hearing was scheduled for the following morning.

At 4 p.m., Caleb called.

Rosalie answered.

"You filed against us," he said.

His voice was different now.

The careful reasonableness was gone.

"You filed against me first."

"Rosalie, if this goes to a hearing, everything comes out.

Everything.

You don't want that."

"What don't I want to come out, Caleb?"

A pause.

"My mother has friends.

Judges she's known for twenty years.

You're walking into something you don't understand."

"I understand it fine." Rosalie kept her voice even.

"Tell me the name of the judge she's planning to call."

Silence.

"Because if you tell me," Rosalie said, "I can make sure Sylvia files the right documentation with the judicial oversight board before tomorrow morning.

That way your mother's friend knows exactly what's in our filing before the hearing starts." She paused.

"Or you can not tell me, and we find out in the courtroom."

The line was quiet for a long time.

"This isn't who you are," Caleb said finally.

"You don't know who I am," Rosalie said.

"You knew who I was when I was afraid of your mother.

That person is gone."

She ended the call.

Giancarlo was in the doorway.

He had heard the last part.

"The judge," he said.

"She has one.