The day Daniel Pierce walked out of that hospital room, he believed he was escaping a mistake.
He had no idea he was creating one.
A monumental one.
For weeks after the birth, his lawyers flooded my mailbox.
Custody waivers.
Liability releases.
Confidentiality agreements.
Documents carefully designed to protect the Pierce family name.
I read every page.
Twice.
Then I declined every single one.
Not emotionally.
Professionally.
The same way I had reviewed contracts for corporate clients before becoming a wife and mother.
The difference was that this time, the contract involved my children.
Five of them.
