“Ma’am,” he addressed Constance calmly yet firmly, “you are currently being detained for assault and attempted unlawful removal of a minor within a protected medical facility.”
Her composure deteriorated rapidly.
“This is absurd,” she protested defensively. “My son told me she was unemployed.”
“For personal security reasons,” I replied evenly, wiping blood from my lip, “I maintain a deliberately low public profile. I preside over federal criminal proceedings. Today, I am also the victim of one.”
I held Harrington’s gaze steadily.
“Proceed with formal arrest. Charges will follow.”
As officers secured Constance’s wrists, my husband, Graham Fairchild, entered breathlessly, confusion and alarm etched visibly across his face.
“What is happening here,” he demanded anxiously.
“She attempted to take Julian,” I answered calmly. “She claims your approval.”
Graham hesitated briefly, an imperceptible pause revealing more than any denial could conceal.
“I did not explicitly approve,” he replied cautiously. “I simply believed discussion remained possible.”
“Discussion regarding surrendering our child,” I asked quietly.
“She is my mother.”
“And they are my children.”
My voice remained unwavering.