Chapter 4 - SHADOWS IN THE COURTROOM
Moving into Vincent Marino's fortified estate on the outskirts of the city felt like stepping into a gilded cage. The grounds were immaculate, patrolled by silent men in dark suits, but inside, the house was surprisingly warm.
The immediate problem wasn't a physical attack, though; it was a legal one.
Three days after we arrived at the estate, I was served with emergency custody papers. Grant was filing for sole custody of Lily, citing my "unstable living conditions" and my association with a "known organized crime figure."
We stood in the sterile hallway of the Philadelphia Family Court, waiting for the emergency hearing. Grant looked immaculate in a navy Tom Ford suit, leaning against the wall with the arrogant smirk that had once charmed me and now made my stomach turn.
"You really thought you could hide behind Marino?" Grant sneered as I walked past him toward the courtroom doors. "He's a thug, Nora. And you're playing out of your league. Once the judge sees where you've dragged my daughter, you'll never see her again."
"You sold out the most dangerous man in this city to a rival cartel, Grant," I hissed, keeping my voice low. "You think winning a custody battle is going to save you from Vincent?"
"Vincent Marino's empire is crumbling," Grant shot back, his eyes flashing with manic confidence. "Kingsley is taking the waterfront. By the end of the month, Marino will be dead or in federal prison. And you'll be a disgraced mother who lost her child."
The courtroom doors opened. The judge, an old, stern-faced man who owed his career to old Philadelphia money, took the bench. Grant's attorney began painting a picture of me as a reckless, desperate woman who had endangered her child by moving into a mafia compound.
I represented myself. I stood up, preparing to fight for my life, when the heavy oak doors at the back of the courtroom swung open.
Vincent Marino walked in.
He didn't wear his usual charcoal suit. He wore a perfectly tailored midnight-blue three-piece, looking every inch the billionaire philanthropist. Behind him walked three of the most high-powered family law attorneys on the East Coast.
"Your Honor," the lead attorney announced, stepping smoothly to my side. "We are co-counsel for Mrs. Hart. We also bring affidavits proving Mr. Harlan's recent, undocumented offshore wire transfers, suggesting a severe flight risk, as well as evidence of his involvement in a criminal conspiracy that actively endangers the minor child."
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Grant's face drained of all color.
Vincent sat in the back row, his silver eyes fixed on Grant. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The teeth were finally showing.
