Chapter 4 - The Legal Warzone
By sunrise, my legal team was already mobilized across three states.
If Elena thought she could walk away from her legal obligations, she had fundamentally underestimated the sheer, terrifying efficiency of Ryker Steel’s corporate machinery.
Arthur Vance, the twins' late father, had been a brilliant, quiet patent attorney who made a fatal mistake: he married a socialite who cared more about luxury handbags than human life, and he failed to establish a secure ironclad trust for his children before his sudden heart attack.
My lead corporate attorney, Marcus Vance—no relation to the gold-digger—sat across my desk, sliding a thick stack of certified documents toward me while adjusting his glasses.
“The emergency guardianship petition was filed at 6:00 AM with the circuit court judge,” Marcus said briskly. “Given the video evidence from O’Hare, the medical neglect reports from our private physician who examined the twins last night, and Elena’s immediate criminal indictment for child abandonment, the judge didn't even hesitate. Temporary full custody has been granted to you, Ryker. Indefinitely.”
“What about permanent adoption?” I asked, my eyes scanning the legal seals.
“We can file for termination of parental rights based on abandonment and criminal endangerment within thirty days,” Marcus replied. “Normally, adoption proceedings take months, but with Elena facing federal felony charges and zero family members stepping forward to claim them, the court will fast-track this. By summer, their last name will legally be Steel.”
I nodded slowly, folding the papers and sliding them into a drawer. “Make sure our security detail around the estate is doubled. Elena has associates in the local underworld—people who helped her launder Arthur’s life insurance payouts. I don't want anyone getting within five miles of my property.”
“Already handled,” Marcus said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. “By the way, how are the kids adjusting?”
“They’re sleeping,” I said, a faint, involuntary smile touching the corners of my mouth. “For the first time in six weeks, they slept through the night without waking up screaming.”
Later that morning, I walked up the grand staircase to the east wing nursery.
The door was propped open an inch. Inside, sunlight streamed through tall arched windows, casting warm golden rectangles across the plush white carpet.
Lily and Owen were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a mountain of brand-new toys, books, and art supplies that Mrs. Gable had ordered overnight. But instead of playing with the expensive gadgets, Owen was carefully brushing the fur of his battered teddy bear, while Lily was coloring a picture of a large black wolf—or perhaps a dragon—with fierce red crayons.
When they heard my footsteps in the doorway, both children looked up.
Owen scrambled to his feet, running over and wrapping his arms around my right knee with surprising strength. Lily followed closely behind, clutching a crayon in one hand and looking up at me with those wide, sky-blue eyes.
“Are you staying here, Ryker?” Lily asked softly.
I crouched down so I was eye-level with both of them, resting my hands gently on their shoulders.
“I live here, sweetie,” I said gently. “And this is your home now, too. Nobody is ever going to make you leave. If you want to paint, you paint. If you want to play, you play. And if you ever feel scared, you come find me. Understand?”
May you like
Owen nodded solemnly. “Like a guard dog?”
I chuckled, pulling both of them into a warm, protective embrace that felt entirely foreign yet completely natural. “Better than a guard dog, buddy. Like a father.”
