At my grandfather's birthday gala, my father grabbed my eight-month-pregnant body and sent me down a flight of granite stairs because I refused to give my seat to my sister after her cosmetic tummy-tuck.

An hour later, I was sitting across from David Miller, my grandfather’s trusted personal attorney. His office overlooked downtown, sleek and immaculate, but the grim expression on his face offered no comfort.

"Can she actually do this, David?" I asked, tightly clutching my handbag in my lap. "She defended the man who shoved me down the stairs. She called me a liar while I was bleeding on granite."

David adjusted his glasses and leaned over his mahogany desk.

"In this state, Sarah, grandparent visitation statutes are notoriously flexible if the petitioner can argue that the child's well-being is at risk due to parental alienation," David explained calmly. "Evelyn’s legal team is aggressive. They aren't trying to win full custody today. They are trying to force you into a court-ordered psychological evaluation."

"They want to paint me as unhinged," I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "If I look unstable, it casts doubt on my testimony against my father."

"Precisely," David nodded. "It’s a strategic distraction designed to discredit you before Richard’s civil sentencing hearing next month."

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed on the glass table. The caller ID displayed an unknown number.

I hesitated, then pressed speaker.

"Sarah, darling," my mother’s smooth, practiced voice filled the quiet room. "I hope you received the paperwork from my attorneys."

"You were served with a protective order, Evelyn," I said, my voice ice-cold. "Calling me directly is a violation."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she scoffed softly. "I'm calling to offer you an olive branch. Drop the civil claims against your father, allow me weekend visits with my granddaughter, and I will withdraw the petition immediately. We can put this unpleasantness behind us."

"Unpleasantness?" I repeated, my fingers digging into the leather of my chair. "He almost killed Grace!"

"Accidents happen when children disrobing their parents' authority," Evelyn sneered softly. "You have twenty-four hours to decide, Sarah. Don't make me destroy what little reputation you have left."

She hung up before I could reply.