In court, Joe tried to play the grieving father. “Your honor, this is unfair! I’m their father. They are Leah’s flesh and blood—MY flesh and blood!”
The judge looked him squarely in the eye. “You were not married to their mother. Nor did you provide financial support while she was pregnant. Is that right?”
Joe hung his head. “Well…I couldn’t afford to. I work small gigs. That’s why we didn’t marry.”
My lawyer presented Leah’s texts and voice notes—proof of Joe’s drinking, proof she had begged him to change. The judge declared me their guardian.
As I walked out, I whispered to the heavens, “Leah, I promised I’d help you. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”
But Joe grabbed me outside. “Don’t think this is over. I’ll fight for them again.”
I glared back. “That’s why you’ll never be fit, Joe. It’s not about fighting for children. It’s about fighting for their sake.”
