Page 20 of May's Bad Boy: Kody

The Wells’ lawyer begins with a long, almost theatrical opening statement. The room goes still.

"Your Honor, this case is not about love. It is not about redemption. It is about the safety and stability of a child."

He steps forward, voice calm and deliberate.

"We are here today because our clients, Mr. and Mrs. Wells, are deeply concerned for the well-being of their granddaughter, Sadie. They have watched from the sidelines as she was placed in the care of a man with a felony conviction. Who, let us be clear, served time for crimes involving workplace misconduct, and a woman who, by her own admission, was homeless, ill, and emotionally unstable."

I can feel Paige stiffen beside me, but she doesn't flinch. Her jaw is tight, her gaze locked on the judge.

The lawyer continues. "This marriage, hastily arranged and conveniently timed, exists solely to paint a picture of stability. It’s a picture that does not match the reality. Mr. Reed needed a legal leg to stand on. Miss Landry needed health insurance. They used each other. And now a little girl is at risk because of it."

I can practically hear the blood pounding in my ears and my teeth grind together. But Paige—God, she just keeps breathing, focused and steady.

The Wells' lawyer begins introducing evidence, paperwork, timelines, even an anonymous tip about our wedding date in relation to the custody hearing. Every word is designed to make us look like liars. We are being portrayed as a couple playing house for the court.

When it's time for our lawyer to call our character witness, Ruby takes the stand first. She's fiery and clear. She tells the court exactly what she's witnessed: me raising Sadie with love and consistency and Paige stepping in like she was born to be a mother. Her words paint a picture that no document can.

"Mr. Reed is a better man than most I know who've never seen the inside of a jail. He's steady, loyal, and puts his daughter first in every decision he makes. And Paige? Paige is the kind of woman who stays up late sewing a unicorn patch onto a child's backpack because she knows it'll make her smile the next morning. That ain't a performance. That's a mother's heart."

The lawyer tries to rattle her. "Would you say your personal relationship with Mr. Reed might cloud your objectivity?"

Ruby smiles sweetly. "Would you say being paid by a land developer clouds yours?"

The room stifles a few chuckles. The judge doesn't crack a smile, but I see his brow lift.

Next up is Caitlin. She walks to the stand with calm, purposeful steps, wearing boots and a soft blue blouse. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap as she begins.

"I've known Paige a short time, but in that time, I've seen what matters most. When Sadie had a nightmare and called for Paige instead of anyone else—that said more to me than any affidavit could. Kids know who loves them. And Paige didn't have to love Sadie. She chose to every single day."

"And what about Mr. Reed?" the lawyer presses.

Caitlin's voice doesn't waver. "He's a damn good father. Not perfect, but the kind who reads bedtime stories, worries about sandwich crusts, and would walk through fire if it meant keeping that little girl safe. If that's not stable, I don't know what is."

Courtney follows, then Shane. Courtney talks about how Paige volunteers at the preschool, and helps with lesson plans. Shane talks about the changes he's seen in both me and Sadie since Paige moved in. Each testimony adds weight to our side, but the Wells' lawyer keeps trying to poke holes.

"Small-town loyalty is admirable," he says at one point. "But it can blind even the best of us."

Then he drops the bomb.

A large monitor flickers to life beside the bench.

"This photo," the lawyer says, clicking to the image. "Was taken the day after Miss Landry collapsed in the kitchen. She had dangerously low blood sugar. The child was in the home and had Mr. Reed not intervened, this could have been fatal."

The picture fills the screen of Paige and me entering the doctor's office the next day.

It feels like someone kicked the air out of my lungs. You can tell Paige isn't feeling well and shows the dark circles under her eyes. She is pale and still in her pajamas. There's an audible intake of breath from the gallery.

Then comes the final blow. The lawyer reads a statement from her ex. A carefully worded, venomous narrative about her "emotional instability," painting her as unreliable and prone to "erratic behavior." He stops just short of calling her unfit. He doesn't have to. The implication hangs in the air.

I glance at Paige.

She looks like someone just reached inside her and pulled out her heart. But still, she doesn't cry, she doesn't speak. She just folds her hands in her lap and stares at the floor, like if she doesn't move, maybe this will pass.

That's when I stand.

"Your Honor," I say, my voice rough. "May I speak?"

The judge looks over his glasses. "You understand this is unconventional?"

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