I had come alone, because my lawyer had withdrawn two weeks earlier after Daniel emptied our joint account and delayed the payments. I had spent the morning trying to explain why our seven-year-old daughter, Lily, cried every Sunday night before going to his house.
But nobody seemed to hear it.
Now the floor tilted beneath me.
“Your Honor,” I whispered, “I need a minute.”
Daniel laughed softly. “See?”
Patricia shook her head. “Drama.”
Judge Hanley’s jaw tightened. “Mrs. Whitaker, this court has been very patient.”
That was when my legs gave out.
I remember the railing slipping from my fingers. I remember the hard crack of my shoulder hitting the floor. Then voices rose around me, warped and far away.
Someone hurried forward from the back benches.
A tall man in a dark green uniform knelt beside me. I vaguely recognized him. He had been sitting quietly near the aisle all morning, waiting for another case. His name tag read: CARTER.
He pressed two fingers to my neck, then looked at my face. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
My lips moved, but my tongue felt heavy.
Daniel stood, annoyed instead of scared. “She’s fine. She does this.”
The uniformed man looked up sharply. “I’m Colonel Aaron Carter, U.S. Army Medical Corps. Your Honor, she needs help.”
Patricia scoffed. “You don’t know her.”
Colonel Carter ignored her. He lifted my eyelid, checked my pulse again, and then his expression changed.
“Call 911,” he said.
No one moved quickly enough.
His voice thundered across the courtroom.
“CALL 911!”
Everyone froze.
Until Judge Hanley stood up.