I never told my mother-in-law I was a judge. To her, I was just an unemployed gold digger. A few hours after the C-section, she burst into my room with the adoption papers and said mockingly, “You don’t deserve the VIP room. Give one of the twins to my infertile daughter; you can’t handle two anyway.” I hugged the babies and pressed the panic button. When the police arrived, she yelled at me that I was crazy. They were about to arrest me… until the chief recognized me… The recovery room at St. Jude Medical Center was more like a luxury hotel room than a hospital. At my request, the expensive orchids that the District Attorney’s office and the Supreme Court had sent me were hidden away; I needed to maintain the “unemployed wife” image with my in-laws. I had just survived a complicated C-section, given birth to twins Leo and Luna, and seeing them sleeping peacefully, I knew all the pain had been worth it. And then the door burst open. Mrs. Sterling, my mother-in-law, entered the room with a firm stride, exuding a strong scent of expensive perfume and furs. She surveyed the luxurious room with obvious disdain. "VIP room?" she snapped, kicking the leg of my bed so hard I flinched. "My son works himself to the bone so you can spend money on silk pillows and room service? Are you really a useless leech?" She threw the crumpled document onto the table. "Sign this. This is a relinquishment of parental rights. Karen, your sister-in-law, is infertile. She needs a son to continue the family line. Besides, you can't handle two babies." Give Leo to Karen and keep the girl. I froze. "What are you talking about? They're my children!" "Don't be selfish!" she barked, heading for Leo's crib. "I'm taking him now.

She considered it an insult.

In fact, it was a cover-up.

I deliberately didn't tell my husband's family what I did for a living.

Artyom knew the truth.

He swore that would make it easier.

"It's important that Mom feels she's in control," she said. "Let's not give her any additional reason to be in control."

I didn't like this decision.

But I was pregnant then.

The pregnancy was difficult.

After two miscarriages, she lived day to day, from test to test.

From ultrasound to ultrasound.

She counted the days as if they were someone else's coins.

And the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight at home too.

So, as far as my mother-in-law was concerned, I was practically unemployed.

I sometimes provide consulting services.

Sometimes I translate documents.

Sometimes I provide help remotely.

A comfortable and undefined life, without social status.

She liked it.

That made it easier for me to despise him.

Or even simpler: consider her dependent.

His daughter, Veronica, on the other hand, was always the center of family compassion.

His debts were forgiven.

Breakdowns.

Harsh words.

Failed romances.

Children's clothing business that failed.

Moving back in with my mother at forty.

Then came a long treatment.

Several IVF attempts.

May be an image of hospital

He understood compassion.

But in this family, compassion has long since become a license to take what doesn't belong to you.

If Veronica suffered, someone had to pay.

Normally Artyom.

Image

Sometimes, yes.

And that day, as was later learned, they decided that my son would pay.

The guard was standing at the door.

The nurse called the doctor on duty.

I saw that one of the employees was already taking a step towards me.

The mother-in-law played with precision.

Tears in her voice.

Teardrop.

Words about psychosis.

After giving birth, this takes on special significance for those who see you for the first time.

The hair is disheveled.

The face is pale.

My hands are trembling.

You scream.

You are covered in blood and pain.

It's very convenient to become a dangerous woman.

I only had time to say:

—He hit me. He tried to take my son away.

Galina Petrovna interrupted:

— Look at her. She's delirious. She's been out of her mind for a long time.

And then the head of security looked at me more closely.

Not as a patient.

As if he were a familiar person.

Her face changed almost imperceptibly.

I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been used to reading facial expressions my whole life.

"Your Honor?" he said in a low voice.