Rebecca opened the folder, and a single page slid into view.
I did not look at the paper first.
I looked at Olivia.
Her face changed before Daniel understood anything.
The smugness disappeared.
Her lips parted, and the hand resting on the courtroom bench curled around the polished wood.
Daniel noticed.
“What is this?” he asked.
His attorney touched his sleeve, silently warning him to stop speaking.
Rebecca remained standing.
“Your Honor, the sealed records concern medical information obtained during Mrs.
Carter’s pregnancy.
We are not asking that private details be read into the public record unnecessarily.
But those records establish that information relevant to this marriage and to Mr.
Carter’s representations was concealed.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Medical information about what?”
I rested both hands over my stomach.
For months, Daniel had treated my pregnancy as something happening around him instead of to his family.
He had missed appointments, ignored messages from doctors, and complained that preparations for the baby were interfering with his work.
Now, suddenly, medical information mattered to him.
The judge reviewed the page in silence.
Then another.
Olivia shifted in her seat.
Daniel glanced back at her.
“Do you know what this is?”
“No,” Olivia said too quickly.
Rebecca looked at her.
It was only a glance, but Olivia saw it.
So did Daniel.
His expression hardened.
“Olivia?”
She folded her arms.
“I said no.”
The judge looked toward Rebecca.
“Counsel, explain the connection.”
Rebecca nodded.
“During Mrs.
Carter’s pregnancy, her physician requested additional family medical history after a screening result raised a question about an inherited condition.
Mrs.
Carter attempted to obtain complete information from her husband.”
I remembered that week perfectly.
I had called Daniel three times from the clinic.
The first call went unanswered.
The second was declined.
On the third, he finally picked up and whispered that he was in a meeting.
I told him the doctor needed a more complete family history.
He sighed.
“Emma, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.
Nothing runs in my family.”
“Can you call your mother and check?”
“I’m working.”
Then he hung up.
The next evening, he came home after midnight smelling of a perfume I did not own.
That was when I stopped asking him to participate and started finding answers myself.
Rebecca continued.
