The courtroom felt different that morning—thick with a kind of silence that presses against your ribs and makes every shuffle of paper, every breath, every footstep echo louder than it should. Custody hearings are never gentle, but this one carried a strange gravity from the moment we walked in. My ex, Damian, stood beside his attorney with the confidence of someone who believed he had already won. He insisted—loudly, repeatedly, almost proudly—that our eight-year-old son wanted to live with him full-time…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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