
The Judge’s eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a surge of hope ripple through my veins. “Mrs. Thompson,” the judge began, his voice calm
but with an edge of surprise, “it appears you’ve been more resourceful than anyone here realized.”
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The Judge’s eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a surge of hope ripple through my veins. “Mrs. Thompson,” the judge began, his voice calm
but with an edge of surprise, “it appears you’ve been more resourceful than anyone here realized.”
The judge’s gaze didn’t falter. “Bank statements, Mrs. Thompson? Investments? Real estate under your name?”
I could see Eric’s shock, his certainty unraveling with each word. The truth was, I had been quietly working behind the scenes, making sure that I and Noah would have a future, no matter what Eric decided to do. My parents had left me a small inheritance, and throughout the years, I had diligently invested it, ensuring it grew for moments like these.
The courtroom was utterly silent, every eye on us. Eric’s lawyer leaned in, whispering furiously, but Eric was too stunned to respond.
The judge turned to Eric. “It seems your wife is not as destitute as you claimed, Mr. Thompson. Given this new information, the court must reconsider your request for full custody.”
A new wave of whispers spread through the courtroom like a rising tide. I stood taller, feeling the weight of Eric’s judgment lift from my shoulders. The sense of empowerment was invigorating.