Chapter 5: Donna's Offer
I stepped out of the elevator and walked to a corner of the lobby away from the security desk before I answered her.
"I'm listening," I said.
"Good." Donna's voice had the practiced calm of someone who spent her days deciding other people's fates across a government counter.
"I want you to understand that nobody wants this to become ugly.
Wendy overreacted last night.
We all know that.
But the way you responded — in front of the whole family, in front of Fiona — that's going to be very difficult to walk back."
"Is this a legal call, Donna?
Because I have an attorney."
A short pause.
"This isn't legal.
This is family."
"You stopped being family when you nodded at Wendy across that table."
Silence.
Then: "I don't know what you think you saw."
"I saw a video," I said.
"Thirty seconds.
You and Wendy.
Right after she h\*t my daughter."
Another pause, longer this time.
When she spoke again, the smoothness had thinned slightly at the edges.
"Jessi, I'm trying to help you.
If Wendy files today and this goes to a formal hearing, the first thing they will look at is the incident last night.
Your behavior.
Your history of conflict with the family.
The fact that you removed a minor from a family event without the other parent's consent—"
"Luca's consent." I kept my voice flat.
"The man who watched his mother h\*t our child and turned back to his soup."
"That's your version."
"It's on video, Donna."
The smoothness dropped entirely.
"What do you want?"
I had not planned to say it this way, but the words came out clean and certain.
"I want Wendy to have no unsupervised contact with Fiona.
Ever.
I want that in writing, signed by Luca, before the end of the week.
And I want you to recuse yourself from any filing connected to my name or my daughter's name.
Formally.
In writing."
"You're not in a position to make demands."
"I'm in a position to walk into the court ethics board this afternoon with a printed list of fourteen case filings and two expedited Calloway family matters that moved in nine days." I waited.
"Am I in a position to do that, Donna?"
The line was quiet for four full seconds.
"I'll call you back," she said.
She hung up.
I stood in the lobby and let out one slow breath.
My hands were not shaking.
I checked — they were not shaking.
I called Patricia immediately and told her everything.
"You should not have taken that call without me," she said.
"I know.
But she made an admission."
"What kind?"
"She said nobody wants this to get ugly.
She said Wendy overreacted.
She didn't deny the video."
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"Did you record the call?"
"No."
"Write down every word you remember, right now, before you do anything else.
Timestamps, exact phrases, everything." A pause.
"This is actually useful, Jessi.
She reached out to you directly, without counsel.
That tells me they're more worried than they're showing."
I found a bench near the building entrance and started writing in the notes app on my phone.
I was still writing when a car pulled up to the curb outside the glass doors.
Luca's car.
He got out without looking at his phone, which meant he already knew where I was.
He came through the doors and stopped when he saw me on the bench.
He had his glasses back on.
His shirt was clean.
He looked like a man who had slept and showered and had a conversation with his mother about how to handle this.
"Jessi." He sat down across from me without asking.
"This has gone far enough."
"Fiona's cheek had a mark on it last night," I said.
"Did you know that?"
He looked at the floor.
"Mom didn't mean—"
"Did you know that, Luca?
Yes or no."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I knew she was upset."
"Fiona.
Our daughter.
Two years old.
Did you know her cheek had a mark on it."
He didn't answer.
"I have an attorney," I said.
"I have the video.
I have documentation of Donna's case history.
And I have a record of every message you sent me last night — none of which asked whether our daughter was okay." I stood up.
"If Wendy files anything today, we will be ready."
Luca looked up.
For the first time since the parking lot, something shifted in his face — not guilt exactly, but the first crack of it.
"What do you want me to do?" he said.
"I want you to decide whose side you're on," I said.
"Not for me.
For Fiona."
I walked out through the glass doors before he could answer.
May you like
But I had seen his face when I said her name.
And I filed that away too.
