Semua Bab FORSAKEN WIFE, NOW A BILLIONAIRE'S GREATEST REGRET: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The black sedan was a vanishing speck, but the threat it represented lingered like a poison in the salt air. LJ’s small body trembled against mine, his brief bravery evaporating into sheer, childish terror. I held him tight, my own heart a frantic drum.“It’s okay,” I whispered, the words a useless platitude. “He’s gone.”“He was a bad man,” LJ mumbled into my shirt.“Yes,” I agreed, my voice hard. “He was.”We didn’t wait for Arthur on the beach. I hustled LJ back up the path to the house, my head on a swivel, every rustle of a palm frond sounding like a footstep. I locked the door behind us, engaging the deadbolt with a definitive thud that felt woefully inadequate.By the time Arthur’s rental car pulled into the driveway, the fragile calm I’d manufactured had begun to crack. He emerged, looking tired and rumpled from the flight, his face etched with concern. The moment he saw me through the glass door, his pace quickened.I unlocked the door and he pulled me into a fierce embrace.

The judge’s voice was a drone, a distant hum against the roaring panic in my ears. “…significant cause for concern… unstable environment… persuasive testimony from the maternal grandmother…”I was losing him. I was going to watch a bailiff lead LJ away to be swallowed by the faceless machine of Aethelred Holdings, dressed up in the guise of his weeping, purchased grandmother. My knuckles were white where I gripped the table. Arthur’s hand found mine under it, his grip just as desperate.The judge paused, looking over her glasses at the Aethelred lawyer. “However…”The single word hung in the air, a fragile thread of hope.“The court is also deeply troubled by the petitioner’s own opacity. Aethelred Holdings is a remarkably… faceless entity. The sudden and convenient change of heart by a grandmother who initially declined custody is noted.” She turned her stern gaze to Stella’s mother, who shrunk in her seat. “This court does not appreciate being used as a pawn in a corporate dispute.”

“He’s not eating.”Arthur’s voice was tight with a concern that went deeper than a skipped meal. I looked up from the legal briefs scattered across my desk to see him standing in the doorway of my office, his face etched with worry.“What do you mean?” I asked, setting my pen down. LJ had been quiet since the confrontation with the lawyer two days ago, but I’d chalked it up to the lingering shock.“I mean he pushed his plate away at breakfast. At lunch, he said he wasn’t hungry. Now, it’s dinner.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “It’s more than just not eating, Gwen. He’s… fading. He just sits and stares at that Game Boy, but he’s not even playing it.”A cold dread, separate from the legal threats, trickled down my spine. This wasn’t defiance. This was retreat. I stood and followed Arthur to the small kitchenette we’d set up. LJ was at the table, his chicken nuggets untouched, his small body looking impossibly fragile. He was indeed just holding the Game Boy, his thumb resting mot

The early morning air at the Santa Monica Pier was cold and thick with the smell of salt and stale popcorn. It was a place of garish colors and forced cheer, now utterly deserted, the silent Ferris wheel a skeleton against the grey sky. I stood at the railing, looking out at the churning, gunmetal sea, the evidence bag a lead weight in my coat pocket. I felt utterly, terrifyingly alone.I didn’t have to wait long.A black sedan, identical to the one from the beach, glided to a stop on the asphalt behind me. The doors opened, and two of the tall, professional men emerged. They didn't speak. They just stood, waiting.Then, the rear door opened, and a man I had never seen before stepped out. He was older, in his sixties, with silver hair and a face that was both refined and utterly ruthless. He wore a cashmere coat against the chill, and he carried an air of absolute, unassailable authority. This was no lawyer. This was the employer."Ms. Gonzalez," he said, his voice calm, cultured. "I

The silence after the door clicked shut was a physical presence, thick and suffocating. It was the sound of a world ending. Arthur’s arms came around me, but I was a statue, carved from grief and shock. I couldn’t feel his touch. I could only feel the ghost of LJ’s small, desperate hands clinging to my waist.“Gwen,” Arthur whispered, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry. We’ll fight this. We’ll appeal…”The words were meaningless noise. I had seen the finality in the social worker’s eyes, the cold efficiency of the system. An appeal would take months, years. By then, LJ would be someone else’s son. He would be taught to call that weeping, purchased grandmother “Mom.” He would forget the smell of clay and the sound of my voice. He would forget me.I pulled away from Arthur, my movements robotic. I walked out of the office, through the main hall of the foundation. The volunteers had stopped cleaning. They stood in silent, horrified clusters, having witnessed the culmination of the tragedy. I d