Piper continued.
“Miss Sloane laughed and said the baby would not even remember the old house.”
Avery’s stomach tightened.
The baby moved beneath her hand, a small reminder that she had to stay standing.
Judge Carrington’s expression hardened.
“Piper, did you hear anything else?”
The child nodded slowly.
“Daddy said Miss Avery would not fight because she was tired. He said tired people sign anything.”
A quiet sound moved through the courtroom.
It was not quite a gasp.
It was worse.
Recognition.
Avery turned toward Brent.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Julian Reeves placed one hand on the table.
“Your Honor,” he said carefully, “I believe this may affect the voluntary nature of my client’s waiver.”
Judge Carrington nodded once.
“It certainly may.”
Brent leaned forward.
“This is a six-year-old child repeating things she does not understand.”
Piper suddenly looked up.
For the first time, her voice grew stronger.
“I do understand.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Piper’s chin trembled, but she kept going.
“I understand Miss Avery cried in the laundry room because Daddy said she was too big and too tired to be loved. I understand Miss Sloane said the baby was going to ruin everything. I understand Daddy told me to smile when Miss Avery came home, so she would not ask why Miss Sloane’s coat was on the chair.”
