Chapter 5 - Emily Reads the Result
I showed Emily only after our lawyers agreed the public records were legitimate and relevant.
She read them in my kitchen.
Sophie sat on the floor pushing wooden animals into the wrong holes of a shape sorter.
Emily looked at me.
“She was a foster parent?”
“Yes.”
“You never knew?”
“No.”
“How?”
I hated the question because there was no answer that made me sound less stupid.
“She said she’d never wanted children until we became serious.”
Emily blinked.
“That is a lie.”
“Yes.”
“Did you background-check her?”
“Normal criminal and financial checks for household staff access. She had no criminal record.”
“You background-checked your fiancée like an employee?”
“I own restaurants and have a child.”
“Apparently not enough.”
That hit.
I let it.
Then Emily softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re right to ask.”
We looked at Sophie.
She had given up on shapes and was chewing a wooden giraffe.
Emily said:
“Do we know what the policy violations were?”
“No.”
“Can we get them?”
“Not just because I want them. Foster-care records are confidential.”
“Good.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Children deserve confidentiality even when adults are curious.”
Correct.
That meant our path would depend on:
Amanda.
Claire.
Public records.
Whatever information people with legal rights chose to disclose.
Emily said:
“I want Sophie nowhere near Amanda.”
“Agreed.”
“Not because of the old foster case.”
“I know.”
“Because we saw what happened now.”
Exactly.
The old history might explain.
The current assault already established the boundary.
That was another lesson.
People sometimes chase hidden history because they want a bigger reason to believe their own eyes.
I had watched Amanda slap Sophie.
I did not need a seven-year-old file to justify ending the relationship.
The file mattered for understanding.
May you like
Not permission.
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