Page 88 of His Daughter

"Yes."

"'She's yours now.' Those are your words. Written in your hand. Left with the baby. A voluntary relinquishment."

"I was desperate — "

"Yes or no, Ms. Solis. You wrote those words?"

"Yes."

David set the note down and picked up another document. "The blanket found with the baby on the night of the abandonment. Can you describe it?"

Perez stood. "Objection. Relevance."

Judge Adeyemi looked at David over her glasses. "I'll allow it. Briefly."

"The blanket," David said.

Kira went still. Her hands unfolded and folded again. "It was cashmere. I bought it myself."

"There's embroidery in the corner. Three initials. DJH." David held up a photograph of the blanket corner. "Can you tell the court what those initials stand for?"

The courtroom waited.

"Declan James Hale." Kira's voice was flat. "I embroidered them myself."

"Why?"

Silence. Three seconds. Five. Kira looked at the photograph. At her hands. At the wall behind the judge.

"I wanted her to have something of his." The words came slowly, like stones pulled from deep water. "I was angry at him. I thought he didn't want us, but she was still his daughter." Her throat moved. "I wanted her to have something that said so."

David let the silence breathe. The courtroom held it. Then quietly, he continued, "So you embroidered the biological father's initials into the blanket you left with your daughter. On a doorstep. In the rain. At night."

Kira said nothing. Her hands were gripping each other so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"You wanted her to have something of him, but you didn't go to him, to his house." David's voice stayed level. "You went to his office building once, spoke to one person who wasn't him, accepted an envelope, and left. Is that correct?"

Kira's composure frayed. Her mouth opened. "I thought — "

"Yes or no, Ms. Solis."

"Yes."

"And the woman you left your daughter with. The address you researched from the agency file." David paused. "You chose her specifically because you believed she would be a good mother."

It wasn't quite a question. Kira's eyes moved across the courtroom. Past David. Past the judge. Past Declan. They found me.

I was sitting at the table, my hands folded, my jaw tight, the shaking contained. She looked at me — no argument, no defense.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I chose her."

David nodded. "No further questions."

He presented the Graham evidence next. The CCTV stills on the screen — Graham walking Kira to the seating area, the envelope placed on the table, the timestamp. The discretionary account records. The termination letter. The criminal referral.

"Mr. Hale did not order the payment," David said. "His former chief of staff acted alone, without authorization, using a fund he controlled independently. Mr. Holt has been terminated and referred for criminal prosecution. The claim that Mr. Hale paid Ms. Solis off — the claim that anchored the petitioner's moral argument — is refuted by the evidence."

Judge Adeyemi reviewed the documents. She wrote something. She looked up.