At two in the morning, Jenna sent him a message.
“I found it in the back of her closet, Sawyer, you really need to see this.”
Then came the photos: a blue folder, old legal documents, a birth certificate, adoption papers, and a letter handwritten by Carolina when she was nineteen years old.
Sawyer opened the images and tried to read them, but the words swam before his eyes as he took in the reality of the situation.
“I hereby voluntarily relinquish all legal custody of the minor, Fernanda…”
He collapsed into the hospital chair as if his legs had completely given out.
Carolina had a child before she ever met him.
A child she had completely erased from her own history.
The next morning, the hospital felt like a completely different world, as if the sun were shining on a truth that could no longer be buried.
His attorney, a stern but compassionate man named Charlie Olson, arrived at eight o’clock to assess the situation.
“We are filing for temporary custody and a restraining order immediately,” Charlie said, his jaw tightening as he reviewed the documents Jenna had sent.
“With this report, the medical evidence, the witness testimony, and these documents, there is no way the court will allow Carolina to have unsupervised access to this child.”
“What about Fernanda?” Sawyer asked.
Charlie sighed, looking out the window.
“That is a different matter, but it sheds a lot of light on Carolina’s psychological state,” he noted.
“We need to find out if that girl was given up legally or if she was forced into it by her own family.”
Sawyer watched his daughter sleeping, his heart aching.
“I don’t want to destroy Carolina, I just want my daughter to be safe,” he said.
“Sawyer, Carolina has already destroyed the safety of your home,” Charlie replied firmly.
“Your only obligation right now is to protect your daughter from further harm.”
By mid-morning, Carolina arrived at the hospital unannounced, looking surprisingly composed in a white blouse and heavy makeup.
Bonnie trailed behind her like a shadow, looking just as arrogant as ever.
“We need to talk,” Carolina said, gesturing toward the hallway.
Sawyer stepped out, leaving Charlie by the door to ensure nothing went wrong.
Carolina tried to keep her voice low and pleading.
“Sawyer, everything just got out of control, I am exhausted and I have been alone for too long,” she whispered.
“You know I am not a bad mother.”