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I never told my mother-in-law I was a judge. To her, I was just a kept woman on unemployment. Hours after my C-section, she burst into my room with adoption papers, mocking me: “You don’t deserve a VIP room. Give one of the twins to my infertile daughter; you can’t handle two.” I hugged my babies and pressed the panic button. When the police arrived, she screamed that I was crazy. They proceeded to restrain me… until the chief recognized me…

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office. White roses from Senator Miller. A towering lily arrangement from the Chief Justice. I had asked the nurses to remove the cards before the visitors arrived. I wanted peace. I wanted to maintain the delicate charade I had lived for three years.

My husband, Mark, was a junior associate at a mid-sized law firm. He was decent, but weak. He loved continue reading …

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