Chapter 5: The Attorney
Her name was Patricia Osei, and a colleague had recommended her with three words: *She doesn't lose.*
I was in her office by eight the next morning.
She read through everything I'd brought — the letter, my notes from the call with Donna Reyes, the incomplete adoption paperwork — without speaking.
When she finished, she set it all down and looked at me.
"How long have you been fostering Lily?"
"Two years and three months."
"And the adoption filing has been sitting incomplete for fourteen months."
"Yes."
She didn't react to that.
"Is your wife contesting the adoption directly, or only pursuing the welfare review?"
"As far as I know, only the review.
But the caseworker told me the separation filing and the review request were submitted through the same attorney."
"Do you have that attorney's name?"
"Donna said she'd send it to me.
I have it here." I slid my phone across the desk.
Patricia looked at it.
Something moved across her face — brief, controlled.
"You know him?" I asked.
"I know his work." She slid the phone back.
"He specializes in contested family placements.
He's good at finding procedural pressure points.
The welfare review is one of them — if it raises enough questions, it can freeze an adoption filing mid-process." She paused.
"Which means your priority right now is to complete and submit the adoption paperwork before that review date.
Once it's formally filed, the legal landscape changes."
"How quickly can we move?"
"If you give me everything today, I can have it submitted within seventy-two hours." She leaned forward slightly.
"But I need to ask you something, and I need a straight answer."
"Go ahead."
"Is there anything in your home situation — anything at all — that a caseworker doing a suitability assessment might flag as a genuine concern?
Not manufactured.
Real."
I thought about it honestly.
"Lily is quiet.
She keeps to herself.
She's had a hard few years and she's still learning that this is permanent.
But she's safe.
She's fed.
She's in school.
She has friends.
She has her own room." I paused.
"The only thing in that house that could be called a concern is the fact that my wife has decided she doesn't want her there."
Patricia nodded slowly.
"Then we have work to do." She pulled a legal pad toward her.
"Tell me everything.
Start from the beginning."
I talked for nearly two hours.
She wrote without stopping.
When I finally stood to leave, she walked me to the door and said, "One more thing.
Don't tell your wife about this meeting.
Don't tell her about Donna Reyes.
Don't tell her about the filing timeline."
"She'll find out when the paperwork goes through."
"Yes," Patricia said.
"That's the point."
I drove home.
Tara's car was in the driveway.
I sat outside for a moment, engine running.
When I walked in, Tara was on the phone in the kitchen.
She turned when she heard the door, and something in her expression shifted — just slightly.
A recalibration.
"I have to go," she said into the phone.
She hung up.
"Where were you?"
"Errands," I said.
She watched me cross the room.
"You seem different."
"I'm tired." I poured a glass of water.
"Where's Lily?"
"School." A pause.
"Marcus.
I think we should talk about the review.
About what happens after."
"Sure," I said.
"Let's talk tonight."
She nodded, apparently satisfied.
She picked her phone back up.
I went upstairs, closed the bedroom door, and texted Patricia: *Everything you asked for is being scanned now.
Sending within the hour.*
Her reply came back in under a minute.
May you like
*Good.
Don't slow down.*
