January arrives with lawyers, not snow.
Three of them, different from December's estate attorneys. These wear sharper suits, carry thicker briefcases, move like predators who've scented blood. They arrive at Blackwood on the second day of term, when students are still filtering back from holiday.
"Ms. Johnson," the lead attorney says, finding me in my classroom preparing syllabi. "We represent Nathan Pinch's family interests."
My blood chills. "Nathan signed away his rights."
"Nathan isn't our client. His parents are." She sets a document on my desk. "They're suing for grandparental rights and questioning Mr. Dickenson's fitness as a father."
"On what grounds?"
"Mr. Dickenson's history of mental instability following a traumatic event six years ago. His isolation, his obsessive behaviors, his inability to maintain normal relationships." She smiles, shark-like. "All documented in his medical records from the family physician."
"That's—that's private information."
"Not when a child's welfare is in question." Another document. "They're also questioning your fitness, Ms. Johnson. Single mother, history of poverty, questionable decisions including concealing a child's parentage."
"Get out."
"We'll see you in court. February fifteenth." She leaves her card. "If you'd prefer to settle, avoid the publicity..."
They leave me shaking. I find Vlad in his office, pacing like a caged animal. He's already been served.
"They can't do this," I say.
"They can. They are." He's holding a letter, his knuckles white. "My parents support Nathan's parents. They believe Devon would be better off with 'stable influences.'"
"Your own parents?"
"They never forgave me for the incident six years ago. For changing." He laughs bitterly. "Ironic, since that change is what led me to you."
Leo appears—of course he does. "Family meeting without me? I'm wounded."
"Not now, Leo."
"Actually, now is perfect." He closes the door. "Nathan's parents hired Kestrel & Associates. They're brutal. They'll paint you both as unfit, claim Devon needs 'proper' guidance."
"And you know this how?"
"Because they approached me first. Wanted me to testify about Vlad's 'instability.'" He examines his nails. "Offered quite a lot of money."
"Leo—"
"I told them to fuck off, obviously. I'm many things, but I'm not a traitor to blood." He sits on Vlad's desk. "However, we need a strategy. They'll use everything—Jasmine's past, the one-night stand, the years of hiding Devon, Vlad's reclusiveness, his refusal to engage with the family business beyond Blackwood."
"None of that makes us unfit parents," I protest.
"No, but it makes you look unstable. Judges favor stability, especially family court judges who can be... influenced."
"You mean bribed."
"Such an ugly word. I prefer 'persuaded.'" Leo pulls out his phone. "Fortunately, I know everyone's secrets. Give me two days."
"Leo, we can't—"
"You can't. I can do whatever I want." He stands. "Devon's my nephew. No one takes what's mine."
He leaves, and Vlad pulls me close. "This is going to get ugly."
"It already is."
That evening, I find Devon in the music room, playing scales obsessively—his way of processing stress.
"Mom says you're upset," he says without looking up.
"There are some people who think... who want to be more involved in your life."
"Nathan's parents?" He's too smart, always has been. "I heard Leo on the phone."
"What did you hear?"
"That they want custody. That they think you and Dad aren't good enough." He stops playing. "That's stupid."
"Devon—"
"No, it's stupid. They don't even know me. Nathan didn't want me. Why do they?"
"It's complicated."
"Everything's complicated." He starts playing again, harder this time. "But I get to choose, right? At my age, courts listen to what kids want?"
"Sometimes."
"Then I'll tell them. I'll tell them everything." He looks at me, and his eyes—Vlad's eyes—are fierce. "No one's taking me away from you."
That night, Vlad and I lie awake, planning. Legal strategies, character witnesses, documentation of Devon's happiness and success. But underneath it all is fear—that money and influence will win, that our unconventional family will be deemed insufficient.
"I won't lose him," Vlad says into the darkness. "I just found him."
"We won't lose him," I correct. "We won't let them win."
But even as I say it, I remember the sharks in suits, their confident smiles. The Blackwood family has old money, old influence. We have love and determination.
Sometimes that's not enough.
Sometimes the world takes what you love most, not because it's right, but because it can.