Chapter 5 - The Legal Fortress
The following morning, the private recovery room on the top floor of St. Jude's Hospital was converted into a high-powered legal command center.
Harrison Cole sat across from me at a small mahogany table, spreading out a series of legal documents bound in dark leather folders. Beside him sat my father, sipping black coffee, reviewing the draft of my emergency custody petition.
"Mrs. Moretti—or rather, Ms. Vance," Harrison corrected himself with a polite bow of his head. "We have finalized the paperwork. Given Mr. Moretti’s arrest for felony financial crimes, his complete lack of income following his termination from Westlake Capital, and his documented abandonment of you during active labor, we are filing for an immediate emergency order granting you sole legal and physical custody of Leo."
"Will Rowan attempt to fight it?" I asked, looking up from nursing my baby.
"With what money?" Harrison chuckled quietly. "His personal accounts have been frozen under the criminal forfeiture warrant. His mother’s assets are tied up in the federal receivership. He was assigned a public defender two hours ago after every private defense attorney in the city declined to take his case once they learned Sterling Global was the primary creditor."
"What about the divorce settlement?" Dad asked, setting his coffee cup down with a sharp clink.
"Under Illinois law, assets acquired through illegal means—such as embezzled funds—are excluded from marital property distribution," Harrison explained smoothly. "Furthermore, we have drafted a complete fault-based dissolution petition citing emotional cruelty, marital abandonment, and financial fraud. Ms. Vance will walk away with one hundred percent of her pre-marital assets, full ownership of the Gold Coast condo, and total custody of her son."
A soft knock sounded at the door. Detective Marcus Vance—no relation to my mother’s family, but a trusted old friend of Dad’s—stepped inside, holding a thick manila folder.
"Gideon, Phoebe," Marcus acknowledged with a respectful head nod. "I just came from the county jail. Rowan Moretti requested a private meeting with you, Phoebe. His public defender says he’s willing to sign a full confession and surrender all parental rights without a custody fight—on one condition."
I raised my eyebrows. "What condition?"
"He wants you to ask your father to withdraw the civil forfeiture claim against his mother’s home in Oak Park," Marcus said, disgust visible in his eyes. "Even sitting in a orange jumpsuit facing five years in federal prison, he's still trying to protect his mother's real estate."
Dad let out a sharp, cold laugh. "The house in Oak Park was purchased with a down payment drawn directly from Westlake Capital’s escrow accounts in 2024. It is primary instrument evidence in a federal wire fraud case."
I looked down at Leo, who had fallen asleep against my chest, his tiny fingers curled around my thumb.
"Tell him no, Marcus," I said, my voice cold, decisive, and absolute. "Tell Rowan that he made his choice on his mother's sixty birthday. He chose her, he chose her lifestyle, and he chose to leave his son behind. Now he can share a legal defense strategy with her."
Marcus smiled faintly. "Understood, Ms. Vance. I’ll deliver the message personally."
As Marcus left the room, Dad walked over to the side of my bed, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You're doing great, Phoebe. You're strong—just like your mother was."
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"I used to think being strong meant enduring pain without complaining, Dad," I whispered, looking up into his warm gray eyes. "I thought if I was patient enough, Rowan would eventually appreciate me. But strength isn't enduring toxicity. Strength is removing it from your life."
"Amen to that," Dad said, leaning down to gently touch Leo’s tiny head. "Now, let's get you and my grandson packed up. It's time to take you home."
