Chapter 4 - The Visit from CPS
By 1:30 PM, I was back at my office when Sarah tapped me on the shoulder.
“Daniel, you have a visitor in the conference room. A caseworker from the county department of family and children's services. Her name is Brenda Holloway.”
I stood up, smoothing my jacket. “Thanks, Sarah. Let’s see what she has to say.”
Brenda Holloway was a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties with sensible shoes, a graying bob, and an expression that had seen every lie humanity had to offer. She sat at the long mahogany conference table, reviewing the medical intake files from the hospital.
When I walked in, she looked up, closing the folder.
“Mr. Wilson. Thank you for making time for me. I’ve reviewed Lily’s medical intake and the pediatric notes regarding acute physical strain and neglect,” Brenda said, her tone professional and guarded. “Under normal circumstances, when a child is left unattended and forced to care for an infant resulting in physical injury, emergency removal proceedings are initiated immediately.”
“I understand, Ms. Holloway,” I said quietly, sitting across from her. “And if my children were still in that house, I would expect nothing less.”
“Where are your children right now?” she asked sharply.
“They are staying with a trusted, vetted family friend under the 24-hour supervision of a licensed pediatric nurse,” I replied, sliding a certified document across the table. “Here is the address, the contact information, and my formal temporary custody filing submitted to family court this morning.”
Brenda picked up the document, skimming it quickly. Her eyebrows arched upward. “You filed for sole emergency custody and a domestic protection injunction before I even knocked on your door.”
“Because I don't react to crises, Ms. Holloway. I document them,” I said, opening my laptop and turning the screen toward her. “Here is the security backup server footage from my home. Timestamped yesterday at 4:12 PM and 6:03 PM. Watch what happens when my mother-in-law, Diane, hands a six-month-old infant to a seven-year-old child and tells her to stop whining.”
Brenda watched the silent, damning footage. Her face hardened into stone. By the time the clip ended—showing Claire and Marcus Vale laughing as they plotted to empty our accounts—the caseworker’s expression had transformed from cautious skepticism to cold, burning fury.
“My god,” Brenda breathed, looking up at me. “She smiled at the camera.”
“She thought the camera was disconnected,” I said softly. “She didn't know who she was dealing with.”
May you like
Brenda stood up, extending her hand across the table. “Mr. Wilson, consider my office officially aligned with your petition. I’ll personally expedite the emergency protective order for Lily and Noah. Nobody is taking those kids away from you.”
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