The door at the rear of the courtroom swished open, offering a glimpse of eager reporters and curiosity seekers. Willow slipped inside and hurried over to Theresa, handing her a folder. With an impatient gesture of his hand, the judge took the folder from the clerk and scanned the documents. A moment later, he regarded the attorneys with a face made of stone. “In my chambers at once,” he said. “We’ll take a half-hour recess.”

Caroline teetered on the verge of a panic attack. She slipped out a side door of the courtroom and took refuge in a nearby conference room, dim and close and full of shadows. Turning toward the window, she pressed her hands against her midsection and tried to regulate her breathing. She was going to lose her kids. The judge was going to give them to the man who beat their mother. Already she was plotting ways to flee with Addie and Flick, to go into hiding, to—

Someone else came into the conference room. She turned and found herself face-to-face with Mick.

A rod of cold steel stiffened her spine. She glared at him. “What do you want?”

“The judge called a recess,” Mick said. “Figured I’d wait here.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she snapped. “I mean, what do you want? What’s your ask? You don’t want these kids.”

“I warned you back in New York—walk away from Eau Sauvage. Admit you lied when you accused me of hitting Angelique.”

“Forget it. I don’t bargain with bullies.”

“Then you’d better introduce those kids to their new daddy.”

A chill crawled over her skin. “Seriously—what will make you go away?”

“Everything all right in here?” Will appeared in the doorway, his gaze locked onto Caroline.

“Who are you?” Mick blustered with bravado. “This is a private conversation. Get the hell out.”

“Oh, buddy.” Will spoke softly. His stance was relaxed, yet his voice thrummed with menace. “You do not want to fuck with me.”

Caroline had no doubt that Will could go full-on Navy SEAL in the blink of an eye.

Which would be gratifying. But not helpful.

“Mick is going to surrender his parental rights,” she said, fixing him with an unwavering stare.

He glared back at her. “I told you what I want. Take it or leave it.”

She felt a spike of panic. If she allowed the tentative deal with Eau Sauvage to fall apart, C-Shell Rainwear would sink like a stone. Far worse, if she failed to report the part about him being an abuser, it would betray everything the Oysterville Sewing Circle stood for—believing women, making them feel seen and heard.

He narrowed his eyes and repeated, “Take it or leave it.”

He wanted her to surrender her reputation to save his. He wanted to destroy her integrity along with everything she had built—her business, her livelihood, the chance to help the women who had helped her build C-Shell. He wanted to strip her of everything, the way he had before, when he’d stolen her designs. He was suggesting that the way to keep the children was to excuse the actions of a violent sexual predator who had victimized Angelique and set off the chain of events that had led to her death.

Go fuck yourself. That was what she wanted to say to him. To this smug, sexist, misogynistic man. This man who had violated her by taking her power from her.

Then she thought of Addie, peeing herself at the very sight of Mick. She could speak out and risk losing the children, or make a deal right here and now. It was a horrible, wrenching dilemma, choosing safety while bottling up what she knew to be true.

She looked at Will, then back at Mick. “Get your lawyers in here. We’re settling this now.”

Caroline couldn’t breathe. Will brought her outside the courthouse, finding a private area facing Willapa Bay and its surrounding marshes, spiked with forested atolls and abandoned docks. She pressed herself against the pale yellow stone of the building, trying to catch her breath.

“I have to settle,” she said to Will, nearly choking on her own words. “I have to do whatever it takes to protect my kids.”

He put his arms around her and she pressed her cheek against his chest. “Easy, baby. You’re not going to lose them,” he murmured.

“My lawyer said no judge would ever take away the rights of the natural parent just because he steals designs and he’s unethical. She said bringing up the abuse would work against me because it’s nothing more than hearsay.” Her throat was clogged with bitterness.

“We’ll fix this,” Will said. “We’ll find a way.”

“What way? The judge has to rule on the facts. In order to make Mick back off, I have to annihilate my own career and deny what I know he did to Angelique. But when it comes to Flick and Addie, I’m willing to throw myself under a speeding bus.”

“The guy isn’t interested in those kids,” Will said.

“You’re absolutely right. Mick Taylor doesn’t want to be a parent. That was never his goal. I ought to call his bluff. I could say, ‘Take them, they’re yours, good luck.’” She pulled back and looked up at Will, drawing strength from his steady gaze. “There’s no way I’d ever do that to my kids. I’d never use my children to make a deal. Because in every way that matters, they’re my children. My family. They’re not bargaining chips on the negotiating table.”

If her business, her career, her reputation had to go down in flames, so be it. The old Caroline would never tear down everything she’d built, the idealized trust and belief. But she wasn’t that person anymore. She was a mother.

There were few things, she’d learned, more precious than one’s integrity, but one of them was surely the need to love and protect a child.

Leaving Will’s embrace, she found her mother with Addie and Flick in the courthouse garden. Gathering them into her arms, she held them close.

“You’re my kids. You’re mine forever,” she told them. “You’re safe. You’ll always, always be safe.”

“Can we go home now?” asked Flick.

Virginia rushed over to her. “Caroline—you need to come back to the courtroom.”

Caroline couldn’t look at anyone as she approached the long table where Theresa and now Willow sat. We had a deal, she thought, her pulse leaping into overdrive. Our lawyers were supposed to make a deal.

A third attorney joined them at the table. To Caroline’s shock, it was Aisha Franklin, an advocacy lawyer she’d met at the meeting in Atlanta.

“What’s going on?” Caroline whispered, wavering between hope and fear.

Willow touched her arm. “Be still. You’ll find out soon enough.”

There was a wave of silence as the judge returned to the bench. Aisha handed a dossier to Theresa, who approached him along with Mick’s lawyer.

“Your Honor, I would like to submit this exhibit reciting facts pertinent to this proceeding. These are sworn statements made under oath.” She placed one of the dossiers in front of Mick’s attorney and gave the other to the clerk for the judge. “These are from individuals who have direct knowledge of Michael Taylor’s history of violence toward women. There were witnesses who saw him treating Angelique Baptiste in an abusive manner. And there are also others who suffered abuse from him.”