In your dreams
Ashley
Several tense minutes crawled by before the bailiff finally called us into the courtroom. My palms were damp, but I refused to let any sign of weakness show. With my chin slightly raised, I walked forward. The silence in the room was heavy, suffocating almost, but I held my breath and forced my steps to remain steady. As always, Marco stood on the left side, his posture confident, like he had already won this battle.
My lawyer, on the other hand, came rushing in seconds later, panting slightly.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she whispered as she slid into her seat beside me.
I shot her a daggered glare, sharp enough to cut glass. Of all days to be late, she chooses this one. Still, I swallowed my irritation. A scene would do me no good here.
“Case number 04987. A custody hearing for the minor, Marcus Asher Montecillo,” the clerk announced in a clear, practiced tone. “Presiding: Honorable Judge Herminia Ramirez.”
The air shifted as the judge entered, regal, stern, her expression unreadable. Everyone stood.
“You may be seated,” she said firmly, her voice carrying authority that left no room for argument.
The hearing began.
Marco’s lawyer was quick to his feet, presenting his case with the smooth confidence of someone who had rehearsed every word. He spoke of Marco’s financial stability, his capability to provide, and his so-called “safe environment” for Asher. He produced photographs, documents, and even printed emails.
“Your Honor,” he said, voice ringing through the room, “this child deserves a home where he is secure, both financially and emotionally. My client has been consistently devoted to his responsibilities. Meanwhile, the mother, Ms. Ruiz, has repeatedly demonstrated instability. We believe custody should remain with Mr. Montecillo.”
I felt a lump form in my throat, but not from fear. Of course. The perfect father act. Always so convincing. But let’s see how long that mask lasts.
My lawyer rose next, her tone steady despite his earlier tardiness. “Your Honor, we have also submitted substantial evidence proving Ms. Ruiz’s ability to provide for her child. She has stable employment, housing, and a support system. Moreover, we have documented instances of Mr. Montecillo withholding access to the child, violating Ms. Ruiz’s rights as a mother.”
The judge’s gaze shifted to me. “Ms. Ruiz, do you wish to add anything?”
This was my moment. I lowered my eyes, letting my shoulders tremble just enough. I dabbed at my tears with a handkerchief.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I whispered, my voice quivering. “The most painful part… is that they moved houses without telling me. They didn’t even give me the chance to see my own son. Can you imagine the agony of a mother, deprived of her child? Nights spent awake, wondering if he’s eating, if he’s safe…” My words cracked as I choked out a sob.
Cry, Ashley. Let them see the broken mother. Let them believe every word.
I continued, “I may not be perfect, but I am his mother. I carried him, I love him, and I deserve the right to raise him.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Marco glaring at me, and I'm certain, his fists are clenching under the table. His lawyer leaned in to whisper something to him, probably urging him to stay calm.
Judge Ramirez interjected, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Mr. Montecillo, do you dispute that you moved without informing Ms. Ruiz?”
Marco rose, his voice clipped but controlled. “Your Honor, the move was for my son’s safety and well-being. I did not believe it was necessary to involve Ms. Ruiz at that time, considering her history of instability. I have only ever acted in the best interest of my child.”
Best interest? I almost laughed. You liar.
The back-and-forth stretched on, each lawyer countering the other, the tension mounting until finally, silence fell. The judge reviewed the documents in front of her, her face betraying nothing.
And then, the moment I dreaded.
Judge Ramirez leaned back in her chair, her gaze sweeping over us both. “After careful review of the submitted evidence, and considering the welfare of the minor, Marcus Asher Montecillo…”
My heart slammed in my chest. Please, please, don’t take him away from me.
“…the court assigns temporary custody to the mother, Ashley Ruiz, pending further evaluation and final hearing.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The words seemed to echo in the air, distorted, unreal. Had I heard her right?
I opened my eyes and turned slowly toward Marco. His jaw tightened, veins standing out on his neck. He looked like a man on the edge of losing control, barely restraining the urge to slam his fist into the table.
The judge’s voice cut through the silence like ice. “Mr. Montecillo, you will be granted visitation rights twice a week, under monitored arrangements. Any misconduct will result in the suspension of said rights.”
Inside, laughter bubbled up. I bit my lip to keep from smiling too widely.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I murmured, my voice soft and humble, though triumph pulsed through me like fire.
When the hearing adjourned, I hurried out, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Outside the courtroom, I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breath. A few minutes later, Marco emerged with his lawyer.
“Thank you, attorney. We’ll see each other again at the next hearing,” Marco muttered.
“Of course, Mr. Montecillo,” his lawyer replied with a polite nod.
I arched a brow, unbothered, before calling out. “Marco.”
He paused, phone in hand. “What is it?” His tone was calm, but his eyes burned with restrained rage.
I stepped closer, my smile sweet as poison, and let my hand graze his chest. “You can stay at my house, with Asher. I know how much you love our son.”
His expression hardened instantly. “No way.”
My smile didn’t falter. “If you don’t agree, I’ll request the judge to revoke your right to see him.”
His eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. “You can’t do that. I know you don’t love Asher. You’re just using him to get to me.”
I tilted my head, my voice low, venomous. “And so what? Why should I care about that child… if I can’t have you?”
For a beat, I expected him to explode, to curse me, to shout. But instead, he smirked. That infuriating, mocking smirk.
“In your dreams, Ashley,” he said coldly. “You’ll never have me. And I will take Asher back.”
He turned, walking away without another glance.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. We’ll see, Marco. You may think you’ve won the moral battle, but in the end, the last laugh will always be mine.