Her Swedish Billionaire’s Baby

“I don’t have any evidence other than what the defendant presented,” Drew answered with a shrug. “I mean, nobody knows who this guy is or what his intentions are. We don’t even know where he plans to raise the child as a foreign national but yeah, he wants full custody. The court should take that into consideration.”

Judge Rees nodded again, all the way through the sound of the squeaky vinyl chair at counsel table and Drew’s pen scratching on paper. Then, there was nothing but steady breathing in the silence.

When the judge wet her lips, it was slow and careful, about as deliberate a gesture as Samara’s ever seen. She glanced at the affidavit again, then back across the courtroom. Samara wondered for a second what she was looking at, but she dispels the mystery when she asked, “Samara?”

Samara, for her part, jerked in her chair. She had spent the whole hearing, if you could call appearances and then the presentation of an affidavit a hearing, silent and still, her eyes focused on the pad of paper in front of her and her toes nudging at the floor. The last three or four days had really been a lesson in just how quiet she could be when she was scared out of her mind, because she had lurked around the house like a ghost, slump-shouldered and silent.

Two or three times, Alison had tried to coax some kind of response out of her, but Samara never budged, expertly avoiding the no-man’s-land of an unwanted conversation. At least, she’d managed until two days ago, when Alison had headed to her usual night shift and left her and Amy alone with a massive bowl of popcorn and the first season of Game of Thrones.

“I’m not even going to pretend it’s appropriate for a pregnant woman,” she’d complained on her way out the door, “but I’m also not going to pretend I could stop you.”

“Smart and s*xy, just what I always wanted,” Samara had replied, and Alison had rolled her eyes before stalking out of the house.

They’d barely queued up the DVD before Samara had asked, “What happens if the judge decides to let Bjorn keep the baby?”

Amy, suave millionaire’s daughter that she was, nearly knocked the popcorn off the coffee table. “Say what?”

“The hearing on Friday. It’s to take the child away from me, right?” Amy had waited a couple beats before nodding, and Samara had promptly dropped her eyes down to the carpet. She’d looked vulnerable all of a sudden, not weak or small but shrinking, and Amy had worked not to reach over and just drag her into a hug. “What if the judge agrees? What if she gives him to him?”

“Then we keep doing what we’re doing,” Amy had said. She’d leaned back on the couch and folded her hands together, forcing herself not to turn into a total suck and suffocate the kid with cuddles. “You have a great lawyer whose gonna fight like hell for you and so am I and so is my family. And Alison. You’re not alone kid.” Samara had very nearly smiled. “The name on a piece of paper isn’t dispositive of whose kid this is.”

“Dispositive?”

“Conclusive.” When Samara had shot her another funny look, she’d rolled her eyes at her. “Lawyer word, look it up later, it’ll come in handy someday. But my point’s just that you’re going to be okay; we’re going to raise this kid together. And Bjorn fu*king Fredriksen isn’t going to use whatever influence he thought he has to take it away from you.”

She was still thinking about that conversation when Jessica Drew elbowed her, and before she could really process it, she was on her feet at the counsel table. Her fingertips rested on the tabletop but the rest of her was at attention, alert and steady.

Alison pulled in a tiny breath next to her. Samara thought it was mostly in surprise, but the only emotion Samara really felt right then was fear.

“Do you have any comments regarding awarding full parental rights to the defendant?” the judge asked. Her eyes rested constantly on Samara, steadily considerate. Samara had thought she might be an ass when they first met, but now, she knew that she was just a lady who thought extra-hard about everything that was presented in her courtroom. “We’re looking at the best interest of the child here and the defendant seems to feel that that lies with him getting full custody. Do you agree?”

There was maybe only a second between the time Judge Rees stopped speaking and the time Samara opened, but it was the longest second in human history. “I know,” Samara answered, “and I don’t agree that that is in the child’s best interest. I grew up without a mother and I certainly would not like to subject a child of mine to that.”

“Very well,” Judge Rees agreed, and even though there was about three thousand orders of the court after that, Samara only noticed two things for the rest of the hearing:

The way she sat up straighter, tall and proud as she’s ever been, and the way Alison’s entire body relaxed when she finally, finally ruled that mediation is the way forward.

*****

“Yearly income,” Jessica said. Her pen was poised, ready to fill in the box, and she was staring her down. Like she thought she would lie or something.

Well, in her defense, lying was a little bit of an issue. Once. Briefly.

Samara shrugged. “Same pay grade as Alison’s,” she answered, and everyone—Jess, Alison, and even Amy —just stared at her.

Samara could think of about three thousand things she’d like to spend her afternoon doing, and filling out background information on herself with the lovely but kind of demanding Jessica Drew wasn’t actually one of them. No offense to Jess and all, but it was August and autumn was just beginning. They could be out enjoying the last days of summer.

Or out seeing a movie.

Or out visiting that rock thing at the natural history museum that Alison wanted to see ‘cause she’s weirdly into rocks.

Or anything, really, that’s not walking through paperwork as a big happy family, because that’s a little weird.

Dani, Jessica’s super-cute toddler who was almost two and babbled nonsense almost all the time, let out this weird squeal from the floor that made both dogs, hers and Bear, jump up and run for it. Dani pushed up onto her feet, probably to chase them, and Jessica reached out to snag her by the back of her t-shirt.

All while staring Samara down.

She’s preternaturally good at this whole thing.

“Try again,” she said, and Samara held up her hands.

“Why?” she demanded, and she could see her ever-supportive and loving sister roll her eyes as she filled out the sheet with her (real) social security number and last hundred years of addresses. “You want my pay stub? I’ll grab my pay stub. I’m not sure if my cafeteria salary is even relevant considering how much money Bjorn has—”

“Because that’s the problem,” Alison intoned.

“—but it’s not all about money or who can provide more luxuries and I refuse—”

“Samara.” Jess’s tone was flinty. Like Alison’s when Samara started to ask questions about her love of changing boyfriends or when she asked Alison if she’s sure about settling down in one place.

Dani stopped struggling and plunked her butt down on the carpet next to Samara. She knocked over the block tower she had been constructing and laughed. It was an evil fu*king laugh.

“Jess?” Samara asked.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Support paid for other dependents?” she asked, and this time, she asked it.

Alison’s ears got red, but Amy just smirked.

This background checking business was surely very uncomfortable. She hoped Bjorn was having as hard a time of it as she was.

*****

“We were expecting mediation. This is good Bjorn. Relax,” Demerle told him and Bjorn did try but it was difficult. Not just because of the stress of all this but he hadn’t expected…

Seeing the girl in court looking all hurt and betrayed had been…difficult. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had to admit that she was very good at what she did; he shrugged internally. He guessed a lifetime of practice would do that to a person. Hell, he had almost been convinced that she was sincere.

‘A child shouldn’t grow up without a mother.’

He’d almost stood up and applauded. It was too priceless.

“Do I have to be present during this mediation?” he asked Demerle.

“I’m afraid so Mr. Fredriksen. It cannot proceed without both parties being present.”

Bjorn sighed internally, “I see.”

He would just have to grin and bear it. At least he did not have to speak directly to her.