Chapter 8 - the ghost returns
The emergency meeting was called in the private conference room of Dominic’s midtown legal offices. The bright daylight had turned harsh and sterile under the fluorescent fixtures.
Leo sat in the adjacent lounge under the watchful care of two trusted guards, coloring quietly with his crayons, unaware of the storm gathering on the other side of the double glass doors.
Dominic stood at the head of the conference table, his black suit back on, radiating a terrifying, lethal aura that made his lead attorney, Arthur Vance (no relation to Julian Vance), sweat profusely through his collar.
"Explain it again," Dominic demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Word for word."
"Elena landed at JFK three hours ago," Arthur Vance said, opening a thick binder stamped with emergency family court seals. "She’s represented by Julian Vance’s corporate legal team. They’ve filed an emergency ex-parte motion with Judge Callahan for immediate full custody of Leo."
Dominic’s eyes darkened into black ice. "On what grounds?"
"Medical neglect and parental unfitness," Arthur said cautiously. "Julian Vance’s team submitted an affidavit claiming that Leo’s two-year nonverbal condition was caused by domestic trauma inside your household. Furthermore, they’ve produced financial records showing that you hired an unlicensed, uncertified woman—Savannah Reeves—to act as his sole psychological caregiver."
Arthur adjusted his glasses nervously. "They are claiming you isolated the child from legitimate medical intervention to hide abuse, and that Savannah is an unqualified surrogate paid to keep the boy silent."
Frankie slammed his fist onto the table with a deafening crack. "That bitch abandoned the kid! Dominic has the surrender papers signed two years ago!"
"Callahan voided the surrender agreement this morning pending an emergency evaluation," Arthur replied, his voice shaking. "Julian Vance bought Callahan two election cycles ago. The court order authorizes child protective services, escorted by state marshals, to take physical custody of Leo today at four o’clock."
Dominic didn't yell. He didn't slam the table. The silence that fell over him was far more terrifying. A cold, predatory stillness that Frankie knew signaled pure, unadulterated bloodshed.
"They will not touch my son," Dominic said, every word clipped and sharp as a guillotine.
"Dominic, if you use force against state marshals in broad daylight, Callahan will issue a federal warrant," Arthur pleaded. "Julian Vance wants you to shoot your way out. He wants you behind bars so his family can take the Brooklyn terminals and the Moretti trust fund in Leo’s name!"
The side door clicked open, and Savannah stepped into the room. She had heard everything from the lounge. Her face was pale, but her eyes blazed with a fierce, protective fury that matched Dominic’s own.
"They aren't taking him," Savannah said, her voice clear and ringing with absolute certainty.
Dominic looked at her, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. "Savannah, take Leo back to the penthouse. Frankie will secure the perimeter—"
"No," Savannah interrupted, walking directly up to the table. "If Julian Vance and Elena want a court hearing, we give them one. Leo isn't nonverbal anymore. He spoke to you. He spoke to me. He knows who loves him and who abandoned him."
Before Dominic could respond, the outer reception doors flew open with a violent bang.
"Where is my son?!"
A tall, glamorous woman in an ivory designer coat strode into the reception foyer, flanked by three men in dark suits and two armed court marshals. Elena Moretti looked like a high-fashion model, her blonde hair styled to perfection, her crimson lips twisted into a venomous, triumphant sneer.
Behind her stood Julian Vance himself—a silver-haired, immaculate corporate predator with cold gray eyes and an arrogant smirk playing across his mouth.
Leo heard the screech of his mother’s voice. In the lounge, the boy dropped his crayon, letting out a sharp, terrified cry as old memories of locked doors and harsh screams came flooding back. He sprinted out of the lounge, terrified, and threw himself behind Savannah’s legs, clinging to her skirt with both hands, trembling violently.
Elena’s eyes locked onto the boy, then snapped to Savannah.
"Get your filthy hands off my child, you little hotel tramp," Elena spat, taking two aggressive strides forward, her manicured hand raised as if to shove Savannah aside. "Give him to me!"
May you like
Savannah didn't flinch. She didn't retreat. She stepped directly in front of Leo, using her own body as an impenetrable shield, her chin lifted high, her hazel eyes blazing like hot coals.
"You take one more step toward this boy," Savannah said, her voice dropping into a deadly, ice-cold warning that shocked the entire room, "and I swear to God you will regret it for the rest of your life."
