The Name on the Papers Didn’t Feel Real
He handed me legal papers.
A polished folder.
Sharp edges. Heavy words.
The name at the top didn’t register at first:
Charlotte Whitman
Noah’s biological mother.
According to the filing, she was now a self-made millionaire.
A tech investor.
Recently widowed.
And suddenly determined to “reclaim” the son she left in a hallway nearly two decades earlier.
She wanted custody.
I remember standing in my kitchen, papers shaking in my hands, thinking one simple thing:
How do you come back after 17 years and act like time didn’t happen?
Weeks later, we were in court.
Charlotte walked in like she belonged there.
Perfectly dressed. Calm. Surrounded by attorneys.
She spoke about fear and youth.
Pressure and regret.
She talked about the life she’d built since.
The opportunities she could offer.
The future she believed Noah “deserved.”
The judge listened.
Then looked at Noah.
“Would you like to say anything before the court makes a decision?”
Noah stood up.
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