Custody disputes. So this is about Arthur after all. My heart sinks, a cold feeling of betrayal washing over me. Was the hospital all Just for show? All that concern, all that devotion-was it just another maniption tactic?


    "May I see the rest of the apartment?" the CPS agent asks, although it''s clearly not a request but rather an announcement.


    I nod stiffly, leading her through the small apartment. She makes notes as we go. Shements on the size of Miles'' bedroom,


    which is admittedly tinypared to his room at Arthur''s ce. She notes the fact that we''re still not fully unpacked, boxes


    stacked in corners. She points out the dust on the shelves, the sink full of unwashed dishes.


    "Do you clean regrly?" she asks, running a finger along a windowsill.


    "I''ve been in the hospital," I remind her. "For a week. After a near-fatal car ident."


    She makes another note. "And before that?"


    **Before that, we had just moved in. I was still getting


    settled."


    "And from my records..." She scans her notepad. "You''ve moved into three different homes in the past three months, including rendering yourself and your


    son homeless at one point in an attempt to return to Bo''Arrocan."


    I swallow hard, my throat suddenly feeling sore. "There were... extenuating circumstances," I say. She doesn''t answer, of course;


    just adds it to her notes.


    The tour continues, with the woman finding fault with nearly everything she sees. Theck of childproofing on lower cabs.


    The medication on my nightstand, within Miles'' reach. The art supplies in my studio that a child could ess.


    By the time we return to the living room, I''m shaking-partly from exhaustion, partly from anger. Brian, Liam, and Miles are


    there, Miles proudly showing off a crayon drawing of what appears to be the three of us: him, me, and Arthur.


    The woman crouches down to his level. "Miles, can I ask you some questions?"


    He looks at me uncertainly. I nod, hoping my face doesn''t betray my fear.


    "Are you happy living here with your mom?" she asks.


    Miles nods.


    "Do you miss your dad?"


    He nods again.


    The woman''s eyebrows rise slightly as she picks up the drawing. "You do?"


    Yes."


    My heart cracks a little at his tiny voice. He''s frightened, and mming up. After everything, thest thing I want is for him to


    feel ufortable again.


    +20 Bonus


    Just as I''m about to move toward Miles, the woman straightens up, turning to me. "I have some concerns about the living


    situation here. The apartment is small, clearly not fully childproofed. There are potential hazards with your art supplies."


    holds up the drawing. "And Miles clearly wants to be with both parents."


    "I''m an artist," I say. "The Abbott Gallery residency is a huge opportunity for me. This apartmentes with the position. It''s temporary, until I can find something better."


    "And in the meantime, your child lives in inadequate conditions while his father has a perfectly suitable home avable."


    "Please," I say, my voice breaking as Brian and Liam move to my side. "I just got out of the hospital. I haven''t had time to


    properly set up the apartment yet."


    "Miles has been very happy with us," Brian says. "He''s basically-"


    She holds her hand up, silencing him. "I understand that, but my concern is for


    the child''s welfare. The boy can hardly even


    speak, he''s so traumatized."


    "He''s on the spec-"


    "Given what I''ve observed today, I''m going to have to rmend hees with me for the night."


    My mouth drops open. She can''t take my son. She wouldn''t dare-


    Just then, the door bursts open. Arthur strides in like a thunderstorm, his


    presence filling the small apartment instantly. His eyes


    find mine first, then move to Miles, who lights up at the sight of him.


    "Daddy!" Miles cries, running to Arthur.


    Arthur scoops him up with one arm, striding over to stand beside me. To my surprise, he slides his other arm around my waist, pulling me gently against his side. The move is possessive, protective, and despite everything, I find myself leaning into him slightly even though I''m possibly more confused than I''ve ever been.


    His eyes fix on the CPS agent. "What are you doing to my family?"