Grayson’s voice was steady, carrying an assurance that seemed beyond his seventeen years. “I don’t remember you,” he began, looking directly at Valerie. “I’m sure you have reasons for what you did, but they don’t matter to me now. What matters is who’s been there for me, who loves me for who I am. That’s her,” he said, pointing at me, his voice unwavering. “That’s the only mom I’ve ever known.”
A gasp fluttered through the gallery, a soft murmur rippling in its wake. Valerie’s poise wavered, her expression shifting from confidence to surprise, perhaps a hint of regret. Her attorneys exchanged glances, unsure of how to proceed.
Grayson continued, “I’m grateful for what you might offer, but I’ve had everything I need. It wasn’t money or status. It was love, stability, someone who taught me to value myself and others. I don’t want to change that.”
