Chapter 12 "Hello, Francis." The coat he's holding slips from the man's fingers and hits the marble floor of his foyer with a soft thud. Judge Francis Delgado turns slowly, and I watch the blood drain from his face as he recognizes me standing in the shadows of his staircase. "Christ, Kovan!" he hisses. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. How did you⁠-" "I let myself in." His eyes dart toward the top of the stairs, probably wondering if his wife heard the commotion. If she's reaching for the phone to call 911. "Leticia's asleep," I tell him, pushing off from where I've been leaning against the banister. "The dogs, too. They remember me, by the way. Still love their Uncle Kovan." Francis mutters something under his breath and bends to retrieve his coat. His hands shake as he straightens. "You could have called. Made an appointment." "This couldn't wait." He sighs like a man carrying the weight of the world, then gestures toward his living room. I follow him through the arched doorway into a space that actually feels lived-in, unlike the rest of his gaudy, pristine house. Oversized sofas that look like you could sink into them and never surface. Dog toys scattered across hardwood floors. Family photos covering every inch of the mantel. My eyes find the pictures of his son, Bradley. Graduation photos. Award ceremonies. The kid's whole life documented in glossy frames, including an empty spot that's clearly waiting for his Harvard Law School graduation portrait. "Take a seat," Francis says, lowering himself into his favorite armchair. Instead, I walk to the mantel and pick up one of Bradley's photos. The kid's got his father's nonexistent chin but his mother's intelligent eyes. "How's Bradley doing?" "Top of his class." Pride creeps into Francis's voice despite his obvious discomfort. "Already working part-time at Morrison & Associates." I set the photo down carefully. "Following in Daddy's footsteps, I see." "Being a judge isn't all it's cracked up to be." His tone turns pointed. "Especially when people break into your house at midnight." "Break in? That's harsh, Francis. I thought we were friends." He glances at his liquor cart mournfully. "This conversation requires whiskey, doesn't it?" "I wouldn't say no." Francis hauls himself up with visible effort. The man's put on at least thirty pounds since I last saw him, and his limp is getting worse. He pours two glasses and hands me one, his expression grim. "What do you want, Kovan?" "I want custody of my nephew. I need you to make it happen." Francis's face falls. "It's not that simple." "You're a superior court judge. This is exactly the kind of thing you can influence." "You're giving me more power than I actually have." He stares into his whiskey like there's an escape hatch in there. "I can sway decisions, sure. Influence outcomes. But completely circumvent the legal system for one man's personal agenda? No. That's not how this works." "Luka has a living parent⁠-" "Exactly." Francis cuts me off. "His mother. Who's remarried, as I understand it." My jaw tightens. "To Ihor Makhov. My father's former second-in-command." "I take it you don't approve of her choice." "Ihor's loyalty died with my father. He spent years undermining my brother's leadership, and now, he's doing the same to mine. He's using Luka as leverage against me." Francis leans forward slightly. "You want the boy away from him." "I want him safe," I snarl. Then I smooth away my anger. "Luka's eight years old. He's sensitive. He needs attention, stability. His mother can barely be bothered to remember he exists, and Ihor sees him as nothing more than a tool." Francis's jowls quiver as he shakes his head sadly. Almost pitying me, if I didn't know better. "If it's truly a matter of safety, there might be options. But you'd need concrete proof that the boy is in danger with his current guardians. Without that, parental rights won't be terminated." I nod, my mind already racing through possibilities. "And if I can prove it?" "Even then, if his mother or stepfather contest your claims, you're looking at a long legal battle. Custody cases can drag on for years." "Luka doesn't have years." I clench my teeth tightly. "A week ago, I had to rush him to the hospital because someone fed him pineapple. He's deathly allergic." Francis straightens. "Where were his parents?" "Cancun. Left him with staff who clearly weren't briefed on his medical needs." "Now, that's something we can work with. Negligence. Child endangerment. There's a case there." Francis pauses, considering. "But it still won't be easy." "Doesn't Luka get a say in any of this?" "He's eight years old, Kovan. He's lived with his mother his entire life. Courts don't typically remove children from their primary caregiver to place them with a bachelor uncle. Especially not one with a lengthy rap sh⁠-" "Watch what you say to me, Francis." He shrinks back instinctively. "Listen to me, Kovan. Separating a child from their natural parent requires extraordinary circumstances. More likely, they'd send in Social Services to evaluate the home environment first." "They'll be fooled. Yana can put on whatever show she needs to. And what the hell does me being single have to do with anything?" "Think about it from a court's perspective. What would a bachelor want with an eight-year-old? Why would he choose that kind of responsibility over his freedom?" "Because he'd be better off with me." "I'm afraid the court won't see it that way." My hands curl into fists. "That's why I'm here. Make them see it that way." Francis swallows hard. "If you present a solid case, I can influence the decision. But if I just hand you custody without proper justification, they'll remove me from the case and assign another judge. One who's not as... understanding of your situation." "Right." I take a long pull of whiskey, feeling it burn down my throat. "So what do you suggest?" Francis hesitates. "Honestly?" "I'm not here for sugar-coated bullshit." "It wouldn't hurt to present yourself as an ideal family unit." I frown. "Meaning what?" "Do you have a girlfriend? Someone presentable?" His voice is careful, measured. "If so, now might be the time to make things more permanent." The whiskey glass freezes in mid-air. "You can't be serious." "Courts favor stable environments. To their eyes, a loving couple provides that stability better than a single guardian, regardless of how capable he might be." I set down my glass. The clink of crystal rings against the side table. An idea begins to form in the back of my mind. Crazy, probably impossible, but it might actually work. The problem is, my plan hinges on convincing one very stubborn, very principled woman to help me. And after everything that's happened between us, I'm not sure she'll even let me through her front door. But for Luka's safety, I'll figure out a way to make it work. I have to.