The fingers wrapped around his ankle before he felt the weight—small, cold, and desperate enough to tremble

The morning did not begin with the quiet chime of Alexander’s wall clock. It began at five-thirty a.m. with a high-pitched, terrifying shriek that shattered the quiet of the penthouse like thrown glass.

Alexander was out of his bed in an instant. Barefoot, wearing gray lounge trousers and a white linen shirt, he sprinted down the hallway, throwing open the door to the guest suite.

Maya was sitting upright in the center of the bed, her eyes wide and unseeing, screaming into the dim morning light. Clara was trying desperately to hold her, but Maya was thrashing, her small hands clawing at the blankets as if struggling against invisible ropes.

"Maya! Maya, wake up! It’s just a dream!" Clara was crying, her own strength failing her.

Alexander didn't hesitate. He crossed the room in two long strides, sat on the edge of the mattress, and pulled Maya out of Clara’s frantic grip into his own arms. He wrapped his broad arms tightly around the seven-year-old, tucking her head under his chin, pinning her flailing arms safely against his chest.

"Shh," Alexander rumbled, his deep voice vibrating directly against her back like a steady drum. "I've got you. You're safe. Look at me, Maya. Look at the room."

Maya gasped, her small frame heaving with violent sobs as her mind tore itself free from the nightmare. She blinked through her tears, seeing the tall, grey-eyed man holding her, feeling the solid, immovable warmth of his chest.

"He... he was taking Clara away," Maya sobbed, her fingers digging into the fabric of Alexander’s shirt. "He locked her in the trunk of the car..."

"No one is taking anyone," Alexander said fiercely, rubbing her back in firm, steady circles. "Look at Clara. She’s right there."

Nora was sitting up in the corner, holding Lily, who was rubbing her eyes in confusion. Clara sank back against the pillows, her face pale, tears slipping down her cheeks as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Alexander looked at the four of them—exhausted, traumatized, and carrying a grief far too massive for their small shoulders. He realized then that keeping them physically safe was only half the battle. Arthur Kane had spent three weeks breaking their spirits, teaching them that help was never coming.

"No more nightmares," Alexander declared softly. He looked down at Maya. "Do you know what we do in my house when bad dreams come?"

Maya shook her head, her sobs finally slowing to quiet hiccups. "What?"

"We make hot chocolate," Alexander said solemnly. "With so many marshmallows that you can't even see the milk. And then we call the best lawyers in North America."

A tiny, wet snort of laughter escaped Maya’s nose.

By seven o'clock, the sun had risen over a crisp, blue Chicago skyline, casting long golden light across the kitchen. The kitchen island was covered in warm croissants, fresh strawberries, and four oversized mugs of cocoa piled high with white foam.

Sitting at the end of the counter, dressed in a sharp three-piece navy suit, was Marcus Thorne—Alexander’s chief legal counsel and a man feared in every probate court in the country.

Marcus set his tablet down, his sharp blue eyes softening as he watched Lily attempt to feed a marshmallow to a reluctant Alexander.

"The paper trail is disgusting, Alexander," Marcus said quietly, turning a page in his leather file. "Arthur Kane filed for emergency temporary guardianship the day after Julian's funeral, claiming the girls were emotionally disturbed and required specialized institutional care. He used a paid-off doctor to sign the evaluation without the girls ever being seen."

Clara dropped her strawberry, her eyes widening. "He lied?"

"He lied about everything, sweetheart," Marcus said gently, looking at Clara. "He’s been liquidating your father's private holdings for three weeks. He’s transferred nearly twelve million dollars into shell corporations registered in Panama."

Alexander reached over and gently took Clara’s small, cold hand in his. "Which means Arthur isn't just a monster, Marcus. He’s a felon."

"Precisely," Marcus smiled, a predator’s sharp grin. "I’ve already filed an emergency petition for a Stay of Guardianship with Judge Evelyn Vance in the Cook County Probate Division. Yes, she’s your second cousin, Alexander, and no, she doesn't give family favors—but she loathes corporate fraud."

"When is the hearing?" Alexander asked.

"Ten o'clock this morning," Marcus said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Arthur thinks the girls are still wandering the streets in the blizzard. He’s going to walk into that courtroom expecting a routine asset approval. When he sees you walk in with those four girls, his heart is going to stop."

Lily pulled on Alexander’s sleeve, her brown eyes bright with sudden worry. "Do we have to see the mean man?"