Chapter 6 - The Counteroffensive
The sheer horror of my mother’s betrayal left the room in stunned silence. Victoria wasn't just trying to win a custody battle—she was attempting to strip me of my legal autonomy, using my past medical history as a weapon to regain control of the empire and force the boys into state custody or private boarding schools abroad.
"She won't get away with it," Mara said, stepping forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me in front of Brielle. "Julian is completely sane, and he’s the father of my children. If you think you can walk in here and intimidate us, you’ve picked the wrong mother to fight."
Brielle looked Mara up and down, her eyes full of condescension. "You really think you belong in this world, don't you? You're a temporary distraction, sweetie. Once the lawyers finish with you, you'll be back in that diner."
"Get out," I said, stepping between them, my voice vibrating with absolute rage. "Get out of my house, Brielle. And tell your father that every contract Vance Enterprises holds with Cartwright Group is being canceled under the fraud clause by end of day."
Brielle sneered, turned on her heel, and marched out, her heels clicking angrily against the marble foyer.
"We have four hours before the court closes, Mr. Vance," Cole said urgently, checking his watch. "If your mother files for an emergency conservatorship, the judge might issue a temporary freeze on your assets while medical evaluations are conducted. We need to strike first."
"How?" I asked.
"We file for an emergency ex-parte hearing right now," Cole explained. "We submit the bank ledgers Harrison found, proving criminal fraud by your mother and Dr. Keller. We simultaneously file a voluntary acknowledgment of paternity for Milo, Mason, Max, and Micah, along with a petition for a temporary restraining order against Victoria Vance and the Cartwright family."
"Will a judge grant it today?" Mara asked anxiously.
"If we present the children in person, alongside the medical evidence and Harrison’s testimony as an insider," Cole smiled fiercely, "no judge in New York will side with a corrupt grandmother over a united family."
Within an hour, our legal strategy was deployed.
We left the penthouse through a private subterranean exit, riding in two armored SUVs provided by my private security team. The boys sat between Mara and me, wide-eyed with excitement, treating the high-stakes legal maneuver like a grand adventure.
"Dad," Max whispered, leaning across the seat to whisper in my ear. "Are we going to see a real judge with a wooden hammer?"
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I smiled, pulling him into my lap, resting my chin on top of his soft hair. "Yes, buddy. A real judge with a wooden hammer. And she’s going to make sure nobody ever bothers us again."
Mara looked across the seat at me, a soft, tentative smile breaking through her stress. For the first time in six years, the wall between us was beginning to crumble, replaced by a shared battle for our children's future.
