Читать книгу The Daddy Dilemma - Kate Denton, Kate Denton - Страница 6

PROLOGUE

THE more Mackie Smith heard, the madder she got. Gordon Galloway was a bully, no...a monster. Mackie pulled a tissue box from her credenza and set it within reach of the sobbing woman seated in front of her desk.

“It’s been so long since Ashley was in my arms, so long since my baby—” Beth dissolved into tears again. “I’ve begged, pleaded for three months...and he refuses even to let me see her.”

Attempting to curb her anger, Mackie took a deep breath. Who did Galloway think he was anyway?—riding roughshod over a vulnerable woman...keeping her from her daughter like this. Mackie could hardly wait to move into the courtroom arena and give him a dose of his own medicine. “We’re going to do whatever it takes to fix that,” she said to Beth. “I promise.”

“You don’t know Gordon. He’ll pull out all the stops. Tell lies...paint me as worse than I was. I realize I made a humongous blunder, but how long do I have to pay for it?”

“Let Mr. Galloway carry on till he’s blue in the face,” Mackie said. “Fortunately for us, it’s the judge who counts and Judge Fillmore won’t be swayed by one man’s ranting and raving.”

“But Gordon can be so convincing.” Beth shook her head helplessly. “And he’s rich now, too. Rich enough to influence a judge.”

Mackie got up from her chair and walked around to pat Beth on the shoulder. “So your former husband has more money than a Swiss bank—that won’t sway Fillmore, either.” Mackie gave the shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Try to relax and leave the fretting to me. If things go like I hope they will, you’ll have your baby in your arms for the weekend.”

“A weekend? I want more than that.”

“Of course you do. Only our chances are better if we approach this one step at a time. Remember what I told you—first we go for visitation, then we make the pitch for custody down the road.”

“But—”

“Beth...” Mackie took her client’s hands. “If I’m to be your lawyer, you have to trust me to know what I’m doing.”

Beth nodded resignedly.

“Now you’d better get going,” Mackie told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the courthouse...nine sharp.” She ushered Beth out of her office.

An hour later Mackie had another file on her desk to draw her attention, but her mind kept returning to the Galloway case. Tucking the ends of her neat brown bob behind her ears, she stared out the window at the montage of Dallas skyscrapers, silently praying that her skills would be enough, that she wouldn’t let Beth down. She knew how important her own lawyer’s support had been when she was groping her way out of a disastrous marriage. It was equally important to her now to do the same for others. Would I have left if there’d been a child? Her breath caught in her throat. Such thoughts were off-limits.

In the predawn hours, Gordon Galloway sat motionless in a rocking chair, watching his tiny daughter sleep. He’d been there the entire night, dozing occasionally, but unable to remain asleep for long. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his heart aching, squeezed in an invisible vise. Yet the possibility was too real. All because of Beth and her hotshot lawyer Mackie Smith.

Already those two were making his life a living hell, and things were just heating up. Gordon could visualize this morning’s hearing. Beth had a penchant for drama and the wronged maiden was one of her favorite roles. His imagination went into overdrive speculating on what kind of performance she’d give today to impress this particular audience of one—a judge with the power to blast Gordon’s world asunder.

His attorneys had told him to stop stewing, swore that there was no way Beth could finagle Ashley away from him. Easy for them to say—it wasn’t their child. And they had yet to catch Beth’s act. When she put her mind to it, Beth could charm the fangs off a snake.

For certain, Gordon wasn’t about to give up Ashley without a fight—gloves off if necessary, Marquis of Queensberry rules be damned. Yet he couldn’t erase the fear that no matter how tough a war he waged, he’d still lose. Even in today’s more progressive courts, the norm was to favor mothers over fathers in custody battles. Even mothers like Beth.

He glanced outside. Darkness had given way to a streak of pale pink light traversing the horizon. The dreaded day was here.

Rising stiffly from the chair, his muscles in rebellion at their long confinement, Gordon stretched and crept silently to Ashley’s crib, staring down at his daughter. He straightened her blanket, then reluctantly turned away. Time to shower and dress. As apprehensive as he might be about the contest ahead, he dared not be late.