"What are you talking about? This is your baby," Dana stammered.
I grabbed her hair, screaming, "You witch. This isn't my child. Do you think I wouldn't recognize my own baby?
"Give me back my child."
My shrill voice seemed to tear through the courtroom ceiling as I yanked several strands of hair from her head.
Dana cried out in pain, and Jake hurriedly led her and Nicole out of the hospital room.
Later, after I was discharged, I remained distant from Billy Morris.
I rarely held him, and we never bonded.
In the next scene, Billy was crying, burning up with fever.
But I barely glanced at him before slinging my bag over my shoulder and walking out the door.
Jake called me, his voice sharp with accusation. "Our son had a fever, and you just left? Where are you?"
I answered coldly, "If he's sick, take him to the hospital. Don't call me."
Without another word, I boarded a plane and flew out of town.
My indifference, mixed with the sound of Billy crying, echoed through the courtroom.
The audience's fury reached a fever pitch.
Jake and his family looked more victorious than ever.
But just then, the judge received the next verdict.
The audience held their breath.
"How could she deny her own child?"