Chapter 4 - The Legal Battle Begins
The next morning, Peter sat in a small conference room at the hospital with a woman named Clara Vance. She was an attorney specializing in child advocacy, appointed by the court as a guardian ad litem for Drew and Lily.
“Reena’s arraignment was two hours ago,” Clara said, opening a thick folder. “The judge set bail at five million dollars. She won't be getting out. The charges are massive: two counts of aggravated child abuse, two counts of child endangerment, false imprisonment, and grand larceny regarding the trust funds.”
Peter took a deep breath. “Good. What about custody?”
Clara looked at him carefully over her reading glasses. “That’s what we need to talk about, Peter. You are their biological uncle. You have no criminal record, you run a successful residential construction business, and you own a four-bedroom house with a yard. On paper, you are the ideal placement.”
“On paper?” Peter picked up on her tone immediately. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is Richard Sterling,” Clara warned. “Reena’s accomplice. He hasn't been formally charged yet because he covered his paper trail well. His lawyers have already filed a petition claiming that he is the legal guardian named in Reena’s newly updated will, should she become incapacitated or incarcerated. He’s claiming that as the manager of the trust, he should maintain temporary physical custody of the children to ‘preserve continuity.’”
Peter slammed his hand on the table. “That bastard helped her starve them! He was living off Aaron’s hard-earned money!”
“We know that, and Detective Miller is working around the clock to prove criminal conspiracy,” Clara said calmly. “But in family court, Sterling is trying to paint you as an negligent relative who abandoned the kids for three years and is only showing up now to claim the $1.2 million trust.”
“I didn't abandon them!” Peter roared. “She kept me out! I have phone records! I have police reports from when I tried to do wellness checks!”
“Show me those,” Clara said, her sharp eyes lighting up. “Did you call the police before today?”
“Twice,” Peter said, pulling out his phone. “Eighteen months ago, and eight months ago. Both times, officers went to the house. Reena showed them the kids through a window, looking clean and dressed up for five minutes. The officers told me it was a civil matter between family members and refused to enter without a warrant.”
Clara smiled—a hard, predatory smile. “That changes everything. That proves a pattern of interference on Reena’s part and active concern on yours. I’m filing an emergency petition for temporary legal and physical custody today.”
Two doors down, in the pediatric ward, the physical healing was beginning, but the emotional scars were vast.
Drew refused to let Peter leave his line of sight. If Peter stepped into the hallway to speak to a doctor, Drew’s heart rate monitor would begin to beep erratically, his breathing growing shallow and panicked.
Lily, on the other hand, had developed an extreme fear of dark spaces and closed doors. If a nurse closed the bathroom door in their room, Lily would scream until her tiny voice gave out.
That afternoon, Peter brought a bag into the room. He had gone to his house and brought back soft fleece blankets, new stuffed animals, and two bright painting kits.
Drew sat up in bed, looking at the plush red dragon Peter handed him. He touched the soft fabric tentatively, as if expecting it to be snatched away.
“It’s yours, Drew,” Peter said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You don't have to share it unless you want to. Nobody is going to take it.”
Drew held the dragon against his chest, burying his face in its fur. “She took my cars,” he whispered into the toy. “Dad bought me three blue cars before he died. She put them in the trash can because I dropped one on the floor.”
Peter felt a pang in his heart. He remembered those cars. Aaron had bought them at a hardware store the week before he died.
“I’ll get you new cars,” Peter said. “A hundred cars if you want them.”
“No,” Drew said quietly, looking up. “Just three blue ones.”
Lily scrambled into Peter’s lap, grabbing the paintbrush from the kit. She couldn't speak many words yet—her speech development was severely delayed due to months of silence in the basement—but she pointed aggressively at a jar of yellow paint, then at a picture of the sun in a coloring book.
“Yellow?” Peter asked.
Lily nodded vigorously. “Sun,” she squeaked, the word croaky and unpracticed. “Big sun.”
“Big sun,” Peter agreed, dipping the brush into the paint for her. “Lots of sun from now on, Lily. No more dark.”
The door opened, and Clara Vance stepped in, accompanied by a social worker named Marcus.
“The judge signed the order,” Clara announced, a rare smile breaking across her stern face. “Emergency temporary custody has been granted to Peter Calder. As of five minutes ago, kids, your uncle is officially taking you home as soon as the hospital discharges you.”
Drew looked at Peter, his small eyes wide. “We get to go to your house? The house with the big porch?”
May you like
“The house with the big porch,” Peter confirmed, tears stinging his eyes. “And we’re going to build a ramp over those steps so you can zip right up on your cast.”
For the first time since Peter had found him on the pavement, Drew smiled. It was small, hesitant, and brief, but it was a start.
