Grant sat back.
The prosecutor played twelve seconds of the 911 call. Not all of it. Just enough.
“Do all dads leave and never come back?” Lily’s whisper filled the courtroom speaker.
Rebecca’s hands locked together under the table until her knuckles turned pale.
Sarah watched Grant’s image on the screen.
For the first time since the driveway, he did not smile, explain, or look offended.
He looked small.
The judge granted Rebecca temporary emergency custody, suspended Grant’s contact, ordered a full forensic review of the home, and referred the prior closed welfare calls for internal review. The gavel struck once at 8:57 a.m.
Rebecca lowered her head, not in defeat, but like someone setting down a weight before standing again.
Outside the courtroom, Sarah handed her a paper bag.
Inside was the stuffed rabbit.
“Hospital forgot him during the transfer,” Sarah said.
Rebecca held the rabbit carefully, smoothing one torn ear between her thumb and forefinger.
Lily came out of the interview room at 9:03 a.m. She saw the rabbit first, then her mother, then Sarah.
“Is the door locked?” she asked.
Rebecca bent down until their faces were level.
“No.”
Lily looked at Sarah.
“Can doors be good?”
Sarah glanced toward the courthouse exit, where morning light cut a bright rectangle across the floor.
“Some doors open the right way.”
Lily considered that. Then she tucked Mr. Buttons under her arm, slipped one hand into her mother’s, and walked through the courthouse doors without looking back.
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