I'll see you in court, if you show up. His words echo in my head, and the rage I'd been clinging to snaps, my throat going tight as the real danger clicks into focus, Sadie, Poppy, both of them suddenly in his crosshairs.
What if he tries to take Poppy before the hearing? What if he hurts Sadie?
I could stop him. Not just temporarily, not just with my fists, but permanently. The Slade name carries weight. Real weight. The kind that opens doors, that makes problems disappear. My family has resources most people can't even imagine: lawyers, security teams, connections that reach into every corner of American business and politics.
One phone call to my father, and Elliot would find himself under investigation for tax fraud within twenty-four hours. One conversation with my connection at the Justice Department, and suddenly Elliot's business dealings would be scrutinized with a microscope. I could destroy his reputation, his livelihood, his freedom, all without leaving this parking lot.
The power I've always taken for granted, always half rejected out of some misplaced desire to "make it on my own," suddenly feels like the most valuable thing I possess. Because I could use it to protect Sadie. To protect Poppy.
But that's the problem, isn't it? Sadie isn't mine. She made that painfully clear tonight.
I trusted you. I let you in. And you lied to me.
Her words cut deeper than any physical blow.
She’s right. I fucked up. The moment she looked at me like I was no better than him, it burned deeper than any wound I’ve ever had. My chest is hollow, gut twisted with the ache of wanting her, needing her trust again.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, the sharp sound splitting the silence inside the truck. I fucked up. Royally,completely fucked up. But I can still fix this. I can still protect her, even if she never speaks to me again.
I pull out my phone and scroll to a contact I rarely use. Richard Alderman, the family's lead attorney. The man who's quietly cleaned up Slade family messes for three generations. It's nearly midnight, but I know he'll answer. He always answers.
"Axel." His voice comes through after just one ring, alert despite the hour. "This is unexpected."
"I need help," I say, not bothering with pleasantries. "Not for me. For someone else."
"I see." His tone shifts subtly, becoming more professional. "What kind of help are we talking about?"
I hesitate only a moment. "There's a custody situation. A woman I… care about. Her ex-husband is threatening to take her daughter, pressing criminal charges to force her compliance."
"And you want me to intervene."
"I want him ruined," I say, my voice almost a growl. "I want him to wake up every fucking day wishing he’d never even looked her way. Make him regret it."
He pauses before responding. "This sounds personal, Axel."
"It is." I don't bother denying it. "Can you help?"
"That depends. Who the hell am I burying for you, and how deep do you want him to stay down?"
"His name is Elliot. I don't know his last name yet—but I will by morning. He's from Oregon, works in finance or banking. Wealthy, but not Slade wealthy. Connected, but not Slade connected."
"I see." Another pause. "And the alleged criminal charges?"
"He claims she stole money from him. Company funds. But she says it was her inheritance that he controlled."
"Financial cases can be complicated," Alderman says carefully. "Especially when marriages are involved."
"I don't care how complicated it is," I snap. "I need this handled. Whatever it costs."
"I'll see what I can do," Alderman says, his voice carefully neutral. "But I should warn you, Axel. Direct financial intervention in a custody case can backfire spectacularly."
"What do you mean?" I grip the phone tighter, staring up at the light still burning in Sadie's apartment.
"If you’re planning to throw money at this asshole, don’t. You want him handled, I’ll find a way to make it hurt that doesn’t blow back on you."
I hadn't considered that. In my mind, everything seemed simple, throw enough money at the problem until it goes away. That's the Slade family way, after all.
"Then what do you suggest?" I ask, frustration making my voice sharp.
