EVERYTHING THAT IS MINE

Through the shattered front frame, Maya watched as the federal agents forced Marcus to his knees on the gravel driveway. The raindrops glistened like glass shards in the glare of the high-beam headlights. Marcus was shouting, his voice lost beneath the wind and the firm commands of the marshals, but no one listened. Handcuffs clicked sharply behind his back.

Julian hurried up the wooden steps, holding a heavy wool blanket and an umbrella. He took in the splintered door and the calm silhouette of Maya standing over the bassinet.

“Are you hurt?” Julian asked, breathing heavily.

“We’re fine,” Maya replied, her voice level. She lowered the canister back into her pocket and finally let out a long, ragged exhale. The physical tension that had held her rigid for days began to dissolve, leaving a profound, bone-deep ache in its wake.

Julian stepped outside briefly to speak with the lead agent, handing over an envelope of stamped court orders. Within ten minutes, the cruiser doors slammed, the sirens were switched off, and the convoy rolled down the coastal lane, taking Marcus Sterling into federal custody.

The silence that returned to the cottage was entirely different from the silence Marcus had left in the nursery. It was not the cold vacuum of abandonment, but the quiet stillness of an open horizon.

Julian returned inside, wedging a temporary wooden brace against the splintered door to block the wind. “The federal prosecutor wants your deposition on Thursday. But as far as Marcus is concerned, the judge has issued a permanent stay. He will not be granted bail; the flight risk argument was airtight.”