Chapter 4 - The War Begins
By 6:00 a.m. the following morning, the storm broke across every major news network and social media platform in New York.
“VANCE EMPIRE IN CHAOS: JULIAN VANCE CANCELS CARTWRIGHT WEDDING.” “SECRET QUADRUPLETS: THE BILLIONAIRE’S HIDDEN FAMILY EXPOSED.” “CARTWRIGHT GROUP THREATENS LAWSUIT OVER BROKEN CONTRACTS.”
Photographs of Mara walking out of the restaurant in her server’s apron beside the four boys were plastered across the front pages of tabloids. The media had already begun spinning wild, inaccurate stories—claiming Mara was a gold-digger who had hidden the children for six years to stage a high-stakes shakedown on the eve of the wedding.
I stood in my kitchen, pouring fresh juice for the boys, while my legal team—a private firm I had hired at midnight, completely independent of Vance Enterprises— sat at the dining table review affidavits.
"They're going to try to paint her as unfit, Mr. Vance," my new lead attorney, David Cole, explained grimly. "Brielle Cartwright’s family carries heavy political clout. They’re working with your mother to file an emergency custody petition with the family court, claiming Mara kept the children in unstable, unsafe living conditions."
"She kept them alive when my family abandoned them!" I growled, slamming my glass onto the counter. "I will buy every news outlet in this city before I let them slander her name!"
"We need a temporary custody agreement between you and Ms. Miller immediately," Cole advised calmly. "If you present a united front—joint custody, full financial protection, and a formal paternity declaration—their emergency petition will be tossed out of court before lunch."
I looked over at Mara, who was sitting in the breakfast nook, quietly helping Micah tie his shoes. She heard everything. She looked up, her expression guarded.
"Joint custody?" she asked softly. "Julian, twelve hours ago, you didn't even know they existed. Now you want legal rights?"
"I don't want to take them from you, Mara," I said, walking over and kneeling in front of her chair so we were at eye level. "I want to shield you. My mother and the Cartwrights have unlimited money and zero conscience. They will use the court system to tear you apart piece by piece if you fight them alone. Let me stand in front of you."
Mara stared at me, searching my face for any trace of the corporate executive who had almost married another woman hours ago. "And what happens when the media circus dies down? What happens to us?"
"Whatever you want," I promised, taking her hands in mine. She hesitated, but she didn't pull away. "If you want me to support you from a distance, I will. If you want me to build a home for all five of us, I will spend every second of my life earning your trust back. But right now, we have to protect our sons."
Milo walked over, clutching a small, worn drawing book. He tugged on my sleeve.
"Dad?" he asked tentatively.
The word hung in the air, sweet and fragile, making my heart stop in my chest. I looked down at him, my vision blurring with tears.
"Yes, Milo?"
"Are those bad people outside going to take us away from Mom?"
May you like
I reached down, lifting Milo into my arms, pulling him close against my chest. He smelled like baby shampoo and warm cinnamon. Mason, Max, and Micah ran over, wrapping their small arms around my legs.
"Nobody," I swore, looking over Milo’s shoulder directly into Mara’s tear-filled eyes, "is ever going to touch this family again."
