The doorbell rang as Lorna Jenkins was setting fresh tulips on the windowsill. She was soothed by the gentle yellow petals, which served as little rituals that anchored her in a world where control was frequently merely a myth.
She had no expectations.
She went to the door and opened it, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
On her porch stood a man dressed in a slate-gray suit. He had a leather briefcase tucked under his arm, and his shoes were polished and clean. With the exception of the name he mentioned next, he resembled every solicitor she had graciously turned down over the years.
"Ms. Jenkins? Richard Clay is my name. I speak on behalf of Mr. Mason Hargrove.
Lorna stopped.
Unconsciously, her fingers twisted around the door's edge.
Calmly, he added, "I'm here to let you know that Mr. Hargrove has formally applied for visitation rights."
She gasped.
"I apologize—what?" She muttered.
With a tight, practiced smile, Mr. Clay produced an envelope. According to clause 19 of the laws governing shared domestic relationships, he claims a familial connection that gives him the right to supervised contact. All of the legal documents are contained within. It is recommended that you obtain legal advice.
The envelope was not taken by Lorna. She simply gazed at it as if it were about to explode in her grasp.
Her voice trembled as she finally said, "There's been a mistake." "He has no right to anything."
Mr. Clay softened his tone and said, "I know this is upsetting." "However, the courts might consider extended absences as justification for supervised reintegration."
Reintegration under supervision.
She shuddered at the words.
He laid the envelope gently on the little table by her door. 'I've served you, Ms. Jenkins. We will communicate'
Then he went away.
Although the door clicked behind him, there was a greater sense of quiet inside. She reached for the envelope, her hands shaking. The violent, cunning, and cruel past had retreated.
She sat on the floor for an unknown amount of time. Time passed in a blur until the doorbell rang once more.
Not right now, she thought frantically. Don't do that again, please.
It wasn't a stranger, though, when she opened the door.
Michael was the one.
He had a clear-eyed but exhausted appearance. She had forgotten how soft his voice had been.
"I am aware of the message's sender."
She blinked. "What?"
Without waiting for an invitation, Michael entered. Edward was the one. He redirected it to cause us to doubt each other. I had it tracked down.
Lorna took a deep breath. "What made him do that?"
"I believe he wants to cut me off once more. Or perhaps destroy the tranquility I've discovered."
Her voice caught as she attempted to speak. "You need to know something, Michael. I—
He looked into her eyes. "You don't need to give an explanation just yet. But when you opened the door, I saw your face. There's a problem."
There was a slight crack in her walls.
She muttered, "I just received legal papers." From Mason. He desires the ability to visit.
Michael's face grew serious. Instinctively protective, he moved closer.
"That man is not entitled."
"I understand," she said, her voice full of passion.'But he's making an effort. I'm also afraid.'
She didn't flinch when he reached for her hand. The warmth between them temporarily lifted the burden of the past.
They stood there, two broken hearts torn between mending and shattering once more.
In a low voice, Michael declared, "I will not allow anyone to harm you." "Never again."
And Lorna allowed herself to think it might be true for the first time in weeks.