"Your six year old daughter has no place to call her own. Even her underwear is stuck in a public place because you're so busy with your work that you didn't consider getting a house with enough rooms and just decided that a darkroom was more important than Aya. She does all the shopping, most of the cooking when you don't bring take out, all of the cleaning...did you know that she knows all of the check-out clerks at the Safeway by name?"

It was low, quiet, polite, and utterly acidic, "Quite frankly, Mr. Brea, your choices are my family...or Child Protective Services."