Marco tried to steal him. Filed a false custody claim. For my son. I don’t know yet whose idea it was. Marco is reckless, not strategic. This had planning in it. Intent.
Someone thought ahead.
Someone will pay.
My hand lifts toward my ear before I realize it. I catch it. Force it down.
Then Nico stirs in his sleep and does the same thing. Small fingers brushing the same spot, unconscious, familiar.
For the first time in my life, the gesture doesn’t feel like weakness. It makes me smile. The feeling that follows isn’t peace. It’s terror. Pure. Clarifying.
How do you protect something you didn’t know you had?
How do you guard a future that just appeared in your arms, fragile and absolute?
The car pulls away, the gates sealing behind it, and the weight settles fully into place. Not don. Father.
And I know, without doubt, without hesitation, I will burn this world down before I let it take him.
