Chapter 4 - The Courtroom Battle
The Cook County Family Court was a grand, limestone building that smelled of old paper, floor wax, and the quiet anxiety of hundreds of families waiting for their lives to be decided by a stranger in a black robe.
Samantha sat on the hard wooden bench in the hallway, her arm wrapped tightly around Lily’s shoulders. Lily was ten years old, with her sister’s green eyes and a mass of wild, curly brown hair. She was clutching her favorite worn velvet rabbit to her chest, her small legs swinging nervously above the floor.
"Is the lady going to take me away, Sam?" Lily whispered, her voice trembling.
"No, baby," Samantha said, kissing the top of her head. "No one is taking you away. I promise."
"But Derek left," Lily said. "I saw his text on your phone."
"Derek didn't matter," a deep voice said from the end of the corridor.
Samantha looked up.
Vincent was walking toward them, flanked by three men in pristine Italian suits. The hallway seemed to part for him, the security guards and county clerks lowering their heads as he passed. He looked immaculate—his charcoal suit freshly pressed, his dark hair slicked back, his expression calm and utterly confident.
He stopped in front of the bench. He looked down at Lily, his expression softening slightly.
"You must be Lily," Vincent said, offering his hand to the young girl.
Lily blinked, looking at his expensive watch and the heavy gold ring on his finger. She reached out and shook his hand. "Are you the man from the papers?"
"I am your sister's husband," Vincent said, kneeling down so he was at eye level with her. "Which means I am your brother-in-law. And my job is to make sure you and Samantha have the biggest, safest house in Chicago. Do you like gardens?"
"I like tomatoes," Lily said, her voice small.
"I have a greenhouse with ten different kinds of tomatoes," Vincent said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "You can plant as many as you want."
The heavy double doors of Courtroom 302 opened, and a bailiff called out, "Hayes and Caldwell."
Inside, Agnes Caldwell was already seated at the petitioner's table. She was fifty-five, dressed in a lavender Chanel suit, her pearls reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. Beside her sat Richard Vance—a sharp-nosed attorney who was currently reviewing his notes with a smug, satisfied expression.
When Samantha entered, Agnes didn't look at her. She looked at Lily with a false, maternal pity. But when Vincent Moretti walked in behind them, Agnes's jaw dropped.
Richard Vance stood up so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. "Mr... Mr. Moretti?"
"Your Honor," Vance stammered as Judge Eleanor Whitmore took her place at the bench. "There must be some mistake. The respondent is Samantha Hayes. Mr. Moretti has no standing in this matter."
"Actually, Your Honor, he does," a tall, silver-haired man from Vincent's legal team said, stepping forward. "My name is Arthur Pendelton, representing the respondent, Mrs. Samantha Moretti."
He placed a certified copy of the marriage license on the judge's desk.
"Mrs. Moretti?" Judge Whitmore looked from the paper to Samantha, her eyebrows rising. "The court was under the impression that the respondent was unmarried and lacked a stable domestic partner."
"The marriage was registered early this morning, Your Honor," Pendelton said. "Mr. and Mrs. Moretti have been in a private relationship for over a year. Due to Mr. Moretti's public profile, they chose to keep their relationship confidential until their domestic arrangements were finalized."
He handed another stack of folders to the bailiff.
"These are the deeds to the Moretti estate in Gold Coast, the trust fund agreements for Lily Hayes, and the medical enrollment forms for Dr. Sarah Jenkins—the top pediatric asthma specialist in the Midwest," Pendelton said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "We have also filed a motion to dismiss the petitioner's suit on the grounds of financial stable guardianship."
Agnes stood up, her face turning a bright, angry red. "This is a sham! A farce! Everyone knows who Vincent Moretti is! He’s a... he’s a criminal! He’s not fit to be near a child!"
"Mrs. Caldwell," Judge Whitmore said, her voice sharp as steel. "You will maintain order in my courtroom. Do you have any evidence to support your claim that Mr. Moretti is an unfit guardian?"
"Everyone knows!" Agnes screamed, her polished veneer cracking. "He’s in the papers!"
"The newspapers do not write the law in this state, Mrs. Caldwell," Judge Whitmore said. She turned her eyes to Richard Vance. "Mr. Vance, do you have any response to the financial and residential stability documents presented by the respondent?"
Vance did not answer. He was staring at a small, yellow slip of paper that Marco had just placed on his table. His face was the color of damp ash. His hands were shaking so violently he had to press them against the desk to keep them still.
"Your... Your Honor," Vance whispered, his voice cracking. "The petitioner... we wish to withdraw our motion for emergency guardianship. We believe the child is in... excellent hands."
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Agnes spun around, her eyes wide with betrayal. "Richard! What are you doing? We have the trust! We have—"
"Shut up, Agnes," Vance hissed, grabbing his briefcase. "We’re leaving."
