My heart dropped. “Noah, sweetheart, please sit down,” I whispered, terrified he’d be scolded—or worse, mocked.
He didn’t move.
Instead, Noah reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out several crumpled sheets of paper, folded carelessly but held like something precious.
Victor laughed loudly. “This is a joke. Now children are pretending to be attorneys,” he sneered, prompting Daniel to chuckle.
The sound cut deeper than any insult. They were laughing at my child.
“Enough,” Judge Alvarez snapped. The room went silent. His eyes remained on Noah. “Go ahead, young man.”
Noah inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest the way he’d seen me do when I was scared. “I have something important,” he said, unfolding the pages. “Grandma Eleanor gave this to me before she passed.”
Tears blurred my vision. I had cared for Eleanor until her final breath, but I had never known she’d given Noah anything.
“What is it?” the judge asked, his tone unexpectedly gentle.
“It’s a letter. Grandma said I could only show it if someone tried to take our home.”
Their lawyer, Thomas Reed, jumped up immediately. “Your Honor, this is improper. A child cannot submit evidence—”