The Missing Heir(107)

                She turned.

                “The diaper bag,” Isabel called after her.

                “No time,” Amber tossed over her shoulder, running up the stairs.

                Zachary whimpered in her ear.

                She didn’t blame him. Poor little thing, dragged unceremoniously out of his bed, probably tired and hungry, likely with a very wet diaper.

                “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered in his ear. “But I have to try. I have to try.”

                She pulled open the door, still at a jog as she crossed the far-too-large foyer.

                Zachary’s whimpers become more insistent as she swung open the courtroom door.

                Destiny was on her feet, back to the gallery, talking to the judge. “The precedent Chamber versus Hathaway clearly applies and clearly demonstrates...”

                Amber’s footsteps slowed as she experienced a rush of unadulterated fear. Was this stupid? Was she making a mistake? But then she focused on the back of Cole’s head and forced herself to move forward.

                Zachary started to squirm in her arms. His whimpers were turning into whines.

                Luca stared at her as she passed the third row. But she ignored him. She ignored the stares of the spectators, and even the curious brow raise from the judge. She moved rudely in front of three people in the front row.

                “Cole,” she hissed. “Cole?”

                He turned, and his expression faltered. “What’s wrong?”

                At the sound of Cole’s voice, Zachary instantly swung around. He howled and lunged for him. As Cole had done a dozen times, he neatly reached out and caught Zachary in his arms.

                Destiny turned, and then everything focused on the commotion.

                “Order,” called the judge, banging his gavel.

                Zachary’s arms wrapped tight around Cole’s neck, and he buried his sobbing face against the crook of Cole’s neck.

                Destiny moved toward the pair. “Your Honor, this is Zachary Henderson.”

                The judge peered over the top of his glasses. “I will not allow this hearing to turn into a circus.”

                But Zachary’s sobs were already subsiding, his little body relaxing against Cole’s chest.

                Roth’s lawyer came to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

                The judge swung his attention to the defendant’s table. “What grounds are you going to choose?”

                “The plaintiff is not permitted to use props.”

                “Props?” asked Destiny, with exactly the right note of surprise and censure in her tone.

                “Props,” the man repeated. “The plaintiff clearly believes that holding Zachary Henderson will make him look to the court like the more capable guardian.”

                “Mr. Henderson is the more capable guardian.” Destiny nudged Cole. “However, if Mr. Calvin would rather hold the prop himself, we have no objection.” She looked hard at Cole.