Chapter 5 - THE VISITATION TRAPZ
Saturday morning arrived, bringing with it the mandatory two-hour supervised visitation ordered by the judge. The meeting was set to take place at the Oakridge Family Services Center, a neutral, court-monitored facility designed to ensure child safety during volatile custody disputes.
I arrived thirty minutes early with Shaun. We carried the triplets in their heavy car seats into the small, brightly lit waiting room. The walls were painted with cheerful pastel animals, a sickeningly innocent contrast to the war Ryan and I were waging.
A court-appointed supervisor, a stern woman named Mrs. Gable, greeted us with a clipboard.
“Mrs. Vance,” Mrs. Gable said professionally. “You will wait in Room B while Mr. Vance conducts his visit in Room A. The interaction will be continuously monitored and logged. If he acts inappropriately or violates any guidelines, the session will be terminated immediately.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gable,” I said softly, adjusting Bodhi’s blanket. “They were fed an hour ago. Their diaper schedules are written down on the bag.”
At exactly 10:00 AM, the front door opened, and Ryan walked in. He wasn't alone. Walking right behind him was a attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing an expensive designer dress and carrying a designer leather handbag.
It was Chloe—Ryan’s junior marketing assistant at his firm. The woman he had spent months working “late nights” with under the excuse of corporate deadlines.
My chest tightened as a surge of betrayal crashed over me. He had brought his mistress to a court-ordered visitation with our six-month-old babies.
Ryan walked in with a cocky, arrogant stride, flashing a fake smile at the court supervisor. “Good morning, Mrs. Gable. This is my personal assistant and family advisor, Chloe. She’s here to assist me with the children today.”
Mrs. Gable looked up from her clipboard, her eyes narrowing as she looked Chloe up and down. “Mr. Vance, this is a supervised court visitation for biological parents. Non-custodial parties are not permitted without prior judicial approval.”
“Chloe is vital to my parenting plan,” Ryan insisted smoothly, stepping closer. “I work long hours, and Chloe will be helping me manage the children during my future custody weekends. It’s important she bonds with them now.”
Chloe offered a tight, artificial smile, looking at the three infants in their car seats as if they were dirty props. “I’m just here to support Ryan,” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with condensation. “We want to make sure the babies are raised in a high-status, stable environment, not... wherever it is they are living now.”
Shaun stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides, but I reached out and caught his arm, holding him back.
“Let it happen, Shaun,” I whispered quietly. “Watch.”
I walked up to Mrs. Gable, keeping my cool. “Mrs. Gable, please document on the official court record that Mr. Vance brought an unauthorized third party to his very first court-ordered visitation, and that he is attempting to hand off his basic parental duties within five minutes of arriving.”
Mrs. Gable scribbled frantically on her pad, her face hardening into a scowl. “Mr. Vance, the woman leaves immediately, or this session is canceled, and I report a total failure of compliance to Judge Martinez.”
Ryan’s charming smile evaporated instantly. “This is ridiculous! I pay thousands of dollars for legal representation, and I’m being treated like a criminal!”
“You have two minutes to clear the guest, Mr. Vance,” Mrs. Gable said coldly, tapping her watch.
Ryan turned to Chloe, his jaw tight. “Wait in the car,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. Chloe gasped, offended, before turning on her high heels and storming out of the building, slamming the glass door behind her.
Ryan turned back to the babies, breathing heavily, trying to pull his calm act back together. “Fine. Give me my kids.”
Mrs. Gable unbolted the door to Room A and gestured for Ryan to follow her. Shaun and I carried the car seats inside, set them down on the foam play mat, and stepped back.
Luna immediately began to cry, unsettled by the harsh lighting and Ryan’s tense energy. Soleil looked around nervously, while Bodhi squirmed in his car seat.
Ryan leaned down, picking up Luna. He held her awkwardly, like a sack of groceries, trying to bounce her up and down. “Shh, Luna, quiet down. Daddy’s here. Stop crying!” he commanded, his voice lacking any warmth or soothing rhythm.
Luna only cried harder, her tiny face turning red.
“Why is she screaming like that?” Ryan demanded, looking at Mrs. Gable defensively. “Did Shannon feed her properly? Is she sick? She never cries like this with me!”
“She’s crying because she doesn't recognize your voice, Ryan,” I said standing near the doorway. “You haven't held her for more than two minutes at a time since the day she was born.”
“Shut up, Shannon!” Ryan hissed, dropping his fake mask entirely. “You poisoned them against me! You’re manipulating my children!”
Mrs. Gable stepped in immediately, her voice stern. “Mr. Vance! Watch your language and your tone! You do not raise your voice in this facility, and you do not speak to the mother in that manner. This is your first warning.”
Ryan’s face burned with embarrassment. He tried to change Luna’s diaper on the changing table to prove he was capable. But within thirty seconds, it became a disaster. He didn't know how to unfasten the tabs, he forgot to wipe her properly, and when Luna kicked her legs, Ryan dropped the fresh diaper onto the floor in disgust.
“This is disgusting,” Ryan muttered, wiping his hands on his pants. “Where are the baby wipes? Why aren't they out? Shannon, fix this!”
“I am not your servant anymore, Ryan,” I said coldly, watching him crumble under the simplest tasks of daily parenting. “You claimed in court that you were fully capable of primary custody. You claimed you were a hands-on father. Prove it.”
For the next hour and a half, Ryan unravelled completely. He couldn't juggle three infants at once. When Soleil started crying for her bottle, he tried to force-feed her while holding Bodhi, causing Bodhi to spit up all over Ryan’s expensive silk tie. Ryan let out an angry shout, dropping a burp cloth to the floor and stomping his foot in frustration.
Mrs. Gable noted every single second, her pen flying across her clipboard, filling page after page with detailed descriptions of Ryan’s anger, incompetence, and emotional instability.
At precisely 12:00 PM, Mrs. Gable called time.
“Session ended,” Mrs. Gable announced loudly. “Mr. Vance, step away from the children.”
Ryan looked like he had just fought a war. His designer shirt was stained with formula and baby spit-up, his hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot with pure fury. He looked at the three babies, who were now all crying in unison, completely overstimulated by his chaotic energy.
“They’re broken,” Ryan spat out bitterly, wiping his tie with a paper towel. “You ruined them, Shannon. You turned them into monsters.”
“No, Ryan,” I said quietly, leaning down to lift Luna and gently soothe her against my chest. Within seconds, her crying stopped, her small head resting comfortably on my shoulder. “They’re not monsters. They’re babies. They just know the difference between someone who loves them and someone who uses them.”
Ryan stared at me, his eyes dark with deep, terrifying resentment. He leaned in close to me as Mrs. Gable packed up her clipboard.
“Enjoy your temporary victory, Shannon,” Ryan whispered, his voice trembling with malicious intent. “On Monday, the court freezes my assets. But what you don't know is that I’ve already resigned from my firm. I filed the paperwork this morning.”
My heart stopped. “What did you do?”
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“I quit,” Ryan smirked, a sick, twisted look of triumph returning to his face. “I have zero income now. No salary, no bonuses, no corporate benefits. You can’t claim child support from a man with no job. I’m going to declare personal bankruptcy, drag this trial out for two years, and watch you starve on the streets with those three kids until you come crawling back to beg for my forgiveness.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the center, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, cradling my child while the floor seemed to collapse beneath my feet.
