Chapter 3: What the Envelope Said
I took the envelope to the kitchen.
I set it on the counter and stared at it for a long moment before I pulled out the papers inside.
It was a custody filing.
Three pages, dense with legal language.
I read it twice, slowly, forcing myself to understand each line.
The boys' birth father was listed as Daniel Mercer.
Joshua's younger brother.
The mother was listed as deceased.
And the second name on the envelope — the name that wasn't mine — was a woman named Renata Voss.
Listed as an interested party.
Represented by her own attorney.
I didn't know who Renata Voss was.
I stood there holding those papers until I heard Joshua's office door open.
His footsteps stopped the moment he reached the kitchen doorway.
"Claire." His voice dropped.
"Where did you get that?"
"The floor outside your office." I set the papers on the counter and turned to face him.
"Who is Renata Voss?"
He didn't answer immediately.
His eyes went to the envelope, then back to me.
"Joshua.
Who is she?"
"She's Daniel's ex-girlfriend." He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them.
"She was living with him when the boys were born.
She's been trying to claim parental rights."
"She's not their mother."
"No.
But she's arguing she functioned as one.
Her attorney is pushing for placement with her instead of Daniel."
I looked at him.
"And what does any of that have to do with us?
With me quitting my job?
With you insisting on these specific boys?"
He was quiet for too long.
"Joshua."
"Because Daniel can't take them himself right now." He finally looked at me directly.
"He's in a rehabilitation facility.
Has been for eight months.
He's getting clean, Claire.
He's actually doing it.
But the court won't place children with someone still in residential treatment, and if Renata gets them before he's out, he loses them permanently.
The judge set a placement deadline."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
The boys were still asleep.
I could hear the small sounds of the baby monitor — one of them shifting, a soft exhale.
"So we adopted them," I said slowly, "to hold them.
Until Daniel gets out."
Joshua sat down across from me.
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"I knew you'd say no."
"You knew I'd say no," I repeated.
"So instead you convinced me to quit my career, upend our entire lives, and bond with two children — without telling me the truth."
"I was going to tell you.
Once Daniel was stable.
Once the timeline was clearer."
"When, Joshua?
When were you going to tell me?"
He put his hands flat on the table.
"I didn't know how."
I stood up.
I needed to not be sitting across from him right now.
"Who's the woman?" I said.
"The name you said on the phone.
Not Renata.
The other one."
His face changed.
It was a small change — a tightening around the eyes, a stillness that hadn't been there a moment before.
"What other name?"
"I was in the hallway for longer than you think," I said.
"You said a woman's name.
You said it like you were afraid of her."
Joshua looked at the table.
"Her name is Sylvia," he said quietly.
"She's Renata's attorney."
Something in the way he said it told me that wasn't the whole answer.
"And?"
He didn't respond.
I picked up the papers from the counter and walked toward the hallway.
"I'm going to call my sister," I said.
"Don't follow me."
I made it to the bedroom and closed the door before my hands started shaking again.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the custody filing in my lap.
At the bottom of the third page, almost hidden in the signature block, was a case reference number I hadn't noticed before.
I typed it into my phone.
The search returned a single result.
A news article.
Fourteen months old.
The headline read: *Custody Battle Turns Cr!minal After Father's Attorney Alleges Evidence Tampering.*
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The attorney named in the article was Sylvia Crane.
And the opposing party — the one accused of the tampering — was listed as Joshua Mercer.
