Chapter 3 - The Sabotage
The black SUV tore down the highway toward the Vance estate, the heater blasting warm air over four exhausted girls wrapped in fleece blankets. Helena sat in the second row, handing out thermal mugs of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, her hands shaking slightly as she brushed hair out of Luma’s eyes.
In the front passenger seat, Owen had his phone pressed to his ear, his knuckles white against the black leather case.
"Explain it to me again, Marcus, and choose your words very carefully," Owen said, his tone deadly calm—the exact voice that made senior executives sweat during board meetings.
On the speaker line, Marcus Vance, Owen’s chief legal strategist and cousin, sounded exhausted. "Owen, someone tipped off the Department of Children and Families at three o'clock this morning. An anonymous report claiming that your home environment is volatile, that you suffer from unmanaged corporate stress, and that the girls are at immediate risk of emotional neglect."
"Anonymous?" Owen sneered, looking back in the rearview mirror at his daughters. Bella was sipping her cocoa, watching him with big, worried eyes. "In this city, nothing is anonymous when fifty million dollars in trust capital is on the line."
"It gets worse," Marcus continued. "The petition to overturn your temporary guardianship isn't coming from the state's standard panel. A secondary motion was filed an hour ago by Victoria Sterling."
Owen’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched along his cheekbone. Victoria Sterling. His late business partner’s sister—a bitter, mercenary woman who had ignored her nieces for years until she realized that their father's remaining estate, held in a private trust, would revert to their legal guardian upon final adoption.
"She doesn't want the girls," Owen spat. "She wants the trust."
"We know that, but on paper, she’s their biological aunt," Marcus said. "The state prioritizes blood relatives over single, unmarried foster fathers—especially single fathers who run a multi-billion-dollar technology conglomerate. And if Victoria’s legal team gets wind that the girls were missing from your home for even an hour this morning..."
"They won't," Owen said sharply. "Richard secured the security feeds from the estate and the park. No police reports were filed. They were out for an early morning walk with me."
"Owen, Judge Margaret Miller is presiding," Marcus warned. "She’s legendary for her strict adherence to state protocol. She doesn't care about your wealth, Owen. She cares about stability. If she thinks for one second that those girls feel insecure under your roof, she will sign the transfer order to place them in a state-run group facility until a permanent custody hearing can be scheduled next year."
A group facility.
Owen knew what those places were like for kids like Sophie, Luma, Bella, and Issa. They would be separated by age groups. Issa would be placed in toddler care, away from Sophie. The bonds that had kept these four traumatized sisters alive through three years of foster system hell would be shattered in an afternoon.
"Over my dead body," Owen whispered. "Where are we meeting?"
"Courthouse basement, private entrance at eight-thirty," Marcus said. "Get them dressed in their best, Owen. They need to look loved, safe, and settled."
Owen hung up the phone and turned around in his seat.
Sophie was watching him, her fingers nervously twisting the fringe of her blanket. She had heard enough to understand the stakes.
"She’s coming for us, isn't she?" Sophie asked quietly. "Aunt Victoria."
Owen unbuckled his seatbelt, turned around completely, and reached out to take Sophie’s hand. "Victoria Sterling may share your blood, Sophie, but she doesn't know your favorite color. She doesn't know that Luma plays the piano when she’s sad, or that Bella draws stars on her shoes, or that Issa won't sleep unless the hallway light is left on two inches. She is a shadow from a past that can't hurt you anymore."
"She told us we were broken once," Luma spoke up from the back, her voice small. "When Daddy died. She told us nobody would want four broken girls at once."
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Owen felt a cold rage surge through his veins, but he kept his expression soft, full of warmth and absolute certainty.
"Then she is the stupidest woman alive," Owen said clearly. "Because taking you four in was the only thing in my life that ever made me whole. Now drink your cocoa. We have a judge to impress."
