“I doubt anyone besides you, Mom, and Meagan noticed we weren’t there.” Lane fought for a more confident posture to look her father in the eyes, but she couldn’t. Never could.

“It. Was. Noticed.” His sharp tone vibrated around the room and into Lane’s chest, removing any hope of being able to stand up to her father. “Our family is always being watched. It’s part of the price we pay.”

Lane dropped her chin to her chest. “It’s not my debt to pay.”

“Maybe not. But the day I faced a judge on your behalf is the day you forfeited your rights to object to my direction.”

The comment found its mark and seared the truth into her heart. She had promised to do whatever her father asked—at the time. A nonnegotiable agreement she had made in a moment of weakness. But she’d had no other choice. She’d already lost Mathias, and her father was threatening to take away Noah. Her eyes stung, but she managed to nod her head. She wouldn’t engage in this battle. She would never win.

“I’m sorry I missed the dedication. It won’t happen again.”

There was a reason her father was nicknamed Bear. His reputation in the courtroom was legendary throughout Georgia and even in other parts of the US. If you wanted to argue with Judge Raymond Sullivan, you’d better be prepared and you’d better be ready to lose.

“Ray, Lane, we’re waiting,” her mother called from the dining room.

“Remember, I was there for you. My request is that you be here when our family needs you.”

Allowing her father to lead the way, Lane fell in step behind him. Since when did being there for your children become a condition to negotiate?

Meagan was already at the table, which was filled with fried chicken, potato salad, rolls, and a garden salad. It looked like a picnic lunch. A very fancy picnic lunch with linen napkins and her mother’s china. Lane found her spot next to Noah and ran her fingers through his hair—a reminder of what was at stake if her father didn’t get his way.

Paige, a five-year-old blonde version of Meagan, sat next to her. Paige gave Lane a weak smile from beneath a big pink bow holding back damp hair.

“Don’t mind her.” Meagan waved as she passed a full plate to Lane. “She’s in a bad mood because she got paint all over her dress. Old Mrs. Davis thought it would keep the kids’ attention if she gave them paint markers.”

“Let’s be thankful it happened after the dedication and photos were taken.” Lane’s mother cast a glance in her direction.

“Where’s Ian?” Lane asked, noticing the absence of Meagan’s husband.

“He’s finishing up a deal in Savannah. He’s been gone just about every night this week.”