Chapter 2 - The Storm Before the Battle
Carter Vance was my older brother’s best friend, a high-powered defense attorney who specialized in high-profile custody battles and corporate fraud. He had always been a quiet, protective presence in my life before Mason systematically isolated me from everyone who cared about me.
Within forty minutes, Carter walked into my hospital room. He didn't look like he had just been woken up at midnight. He wore a crisp dark suit, his tie slightly loosened, his expression grim and focused. When his eyes fell on me—pale, bruised, and trembling—his jaw clenched.
"Elise," he said, his voice deep and grounding. He walked straight to my bedside, completely ignoring the baby for a moment to assess my physical state. "Are you okay? What did he do?"
I spilled everything. The emergency C-section, the constant phone calls Mason ignored, his dramatic entrance with Chelsea in her wedding dress, and the threat of a brutal custody battle.
Carter listened, taking notes on a small legal pad, his eyes flashing with a dangerous quiet fire. When I finished, he looked over at the bassinet, a soft, rare smile breaking through his serious demeanor. He walked over and gently touched the plastic side of the crib.
"She's beautiful, Elise. She looks just like you." He turned back to me, his expression hardening again. "Here’s what we’re going to do. Mason thinks he has the upper hand because of his family's money. What he doesn't realize is that the law doesn't favor men who abandon their pregnant wives to marry their wedding planners."
"He said he’ll sue for full custody," I whispered, tears of exhaustion finally spilling over my eyelashes. "His mother has endless resources, Carter. They’ll paint me as unstable."
"Let them try," Carter said coolly. "First of all, because you are not married, and because he did not sign the birth certificate, he has zero legal rights right now. He has to petition the court for a paternity test first. That takes weeks. In the meantime, we file for a temporary restraining order based on harassment. Walking into a recovery room hours after an emergency surgery to intimidate a patient is a massive violation."
The next morning, the real battle began.
I was discharged two days later, taking my daughter—whom I officially named Clara Vance—to a small, secure apartment Carter had helped me secure. But peace was a luxury we couldn't afford.
On Monday morning, my phone blew up. It wasn't Mason. It was Linda Carrington, my former mother-in-law.
“Elise, you have lost your mind. Denying Mason his child is a low blow, even for you. We have scheduled a private DNA test for Thursday at 10 AM. If you do not show up with Clara, we will involve the police and file emergency kidnapping charges. Do not play games with us.”
I forwarded the message to Carter. His reply was instant.
“Ignore her. They cannot file kidnapping charges for a child Mason has no legal claim over yet. I am filing our response today. Keep your doors locked. I’m coming over after court.”
That afternoon, as I was trying to soothe Clara’s colic, a heavy knock echoed through my front door. My heart leapt into my throat. I crept to the peephole.
May you like
It wasn't the police. It wasn't Carter.
It was Chelsea. She was no longer in her wedding dress, but she looked frantic, her perfect blonde hair disheveled, clutching a thick designer handbag to her chest like a shield.
