– Give the child back. Goodly.
From his cold, haughty gaze, I only hold the sobbing little mouse closer to myself.
– She’s afraid of you! — it blurts out of me, and my head is empty with panic. — You’ve just broken into my apartment. You threatened me! And now you’re going to take my daughter?
– Mine, he cuts off.
– You’re mistaken — I try to speak firmly, but my voice betrays me and trembles. — I’m her mother.
– On paper. And I’m her biological father.
– A wonderful “father,” if your child ended up in a baby home! — I spit out with contempt.
I can see it hits him. And still I won’t back down: she’s my life; for her, I’ll go all the way.
– To me, you’re just a rich man who thinks everything is allowed. But no. She’s my daughter. And I won’t give her to you!
***
I write children’s fairy tales, and he is the owner of the publishing house where I work. We can’t stand each other from the very first meeting. And then he barges into my life and demands that I hand over my little girl to him. His daughter…