Chapter 6 - REBECCA’S LAWYER MADE ONE MISTAKE IN FAMILY COURT
The custody hearing happened six weeks after Leo crawled to my gate.
By then, he could stand with crutches.
Maya had gained weight.
Both children were in trauma therapy.
And Rebecca had been formally charged with Ethan’s murder.
Her attorney still fought placement.
Not because Rebecca expected the children returned immediately.
That was impossible.
The strategy was different.
If I could be declared unsuitable, Leo and Maya would enter foster or alternate kinship care.
Rebecca’s sister had filed from San Antonio.
I had met her twice.
She had not seen the children in almost a year.
Still, she looked excellent on paper.
Teacher.
Married.
Two children.
Suburban home.
No criminal associations.
Then there was me.
Thomas Moretti.
Restaurants.
Construction.
Nightclubs.
Shipping.
A dozen investigations in twenty years.
No major convictions.
Plenty of smoke.
The courtroom was closed.
Good.
No reporters.
Judge Evelyn Park presided.
Rebecca appeared remotely from jail.
She cried when she saw the children’s attorneys.
I did not look at her.
Her lawyer began with my reputation.
“Mr. Moretti, have you ever been investigated by federal law enforcement?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than five?”
“Yes.”
“More than ten?”
“Probably.”
My attorney shifted.
I answered anyway.
“Have businesses associated with you ever employed individuals convicted of violent crimes?”
“Yes.”
“Do armed guards protect your residence?”
“Yes.”
“Do you consider yourself a mafia boss?”
The room went silent.
My attorney objected.
The judge allowed limited answer.
I thought.
Then:
“People call me that.”
“That was not the question.”
“No.”
I said.
“I run businesses and relationships that have existed around organized crime.”
Rebecca’s lawyer smiled.
He thought honesty helped him.
Maybe it did.
“Is violence associated with your world?”
“Yes.”
“Then how can you claim your home is appropriate for children?”
I looked at Leo’s court-appointed advocate.
Then at the judge.
“I can’t claim my past is harmless.”
The lawyer paused.
Not the answer he expected.
I continued.
“My brother was right to worry about his children being exposed to parts of my life.”
Rebecca looked up.
I kept going.
“So I changed things.”
“What things?”
“Security personnel around the residential section are independently vetted.”
“No meetings connected to questionable business happen at my home.”
“Certain business relationships are being severed.”
“My household finances and legal structures are reviewed.”
“The children have professional care.”
“Therapy.”
“School arrangements.”
“Background-checked staff.”
The lawyer laughed lightly.
“You expect the court to believe you abandoned an entire lifestyle in six weeks?”
“No.”
I said.
“I expect the court to judge what I can prove.”
That silenced him.
Then he made his mistake.
He asked:
“Isn’t it true Ethan Moretti specifically wanted his children kept away from you?”
My heart tightened.
“Yes.”
“So honoring your brother means respecting that.”
“No.”
His smile grew.
“Why not?”
“Because before he died, he changed his mind.”
The lawyer froze.
My attorney stood.
We had not planned to introduce the audio notes unless needed.
Now we did.
The judge heard Ethan’s voice.
I’m moving the kids to Thomas if I confirm anything.
Then:
If anything happens before then, Leo knows the gate code.
Rebecca’s face turned white on the screen.
Her attorney stopped smiling.
The judge listened without expression.
Then Leo’s advocate introduced his statement.
Not live testimony.
Recorded with a child specialist.
Leo described his father saying:
If I can’t come home one day, take Maya and go to Thomas.
The room changed.
Rebecca’s attorney tried another path.
“Ethan may have been impaired by medication.”
My lawyer stood.
“That medication is now evidence in the pending homicide case.”
The judge’s eyes hardened.
Counsel backed down.
Then Rebecca requested to speak.
Her attorney whispered urgently.
She ignored him.
“Thomas is dangerous.”
Her voice broke.
“He always has been.”
For once, I agreed.
Then she continued.
“Ethan knew it.”
“The children should not grow up around guns and criminals.”
Judge Park asked:
“Did you lock Leo and Maya in a basement?”
Rebecca cried.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Did the doors lock externally?”
“For safety.”
“Whose?”
Silence.
Rebecca looked toward me.
“You did this.”
There it was.
Not remorse.
Blame.
“If you had stayed away, everything would have been fine.”
I felt something inside me become calm.
Not rage.
Clarity.
Judge Park asked:
“Everything would have been fine?”
Rebecca realized too late.
She tried to recover.
“I mean the children were grieving.”
“They were difficult.”
“Leo lied.”
“He created conflict.”
I looked at my six-year-old nephew through the one-way child waiting area.
Difficult.
He had crawled on a broken leg to save his sister.
The judge ended Rebecca’s statement.
Then Dana testified.
Therapists.
Doctors.
Investigators.
My home evaluator.
Even Elena Ruiz, my housekeeper.
She described my mistakes too.
“Mr. Moretti is used to giving orders.”
I stared at her.
Traitor.
Judge Park almost smiled.
Elena continued.
“He has had to learn children do not respond like employees.”
“Example?”
“He tried to schedule bedtime.”
I frowned.
“Bedtime is scheduled.”
Elena looked at me.
“You gave them a printed agenda.”
The judge actually laughed.
I closed my eyes.
Elena continued.
“He is learning.”
“He listens.”
“When Leo asks for the hall light on, it stays on.”
“When Maya changes her mind about food, nobody punishes her.”
“He attends therapy appointments.”
“He moved meetings out of the residence.”
“He is not perfect.”
“None of us are.”
That testimony helped more than flattery would have.
Judge Park ruled temporary placement should continue with me.
Long-term guardianship review scheduled after criminal proceedings progressed.
Rebecca’s sister was denied placement for now, though allowed appropriate family contact if therapists approved.
Then the judge looked directly at me.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Your brother asked you to protect these children.”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Protection does not mean possession.”
I became still.
“You do not get to replace Rebecca’s control with yours.”
The sentence landed hard.
“Understood.”
“Leo is not your soldier.”
“Maya is not evidence of your redemption.”
“They are children.”
“Yes.”
“If you remember that, perhaps this can work.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
Outside court, my attorney said:
“That went well.”
I stared at him.
“Elena told a judge about my bedtime agenda.”
He laughed.
“You survived.”
Barely.
That afternoon, I took the children for ice cream.
No security inside.
Two men across the street.
Compromise.
Leo chose chocolate.
Maya chose strawberry.
Then ate mine.
Progress.
Halfway through, Leo asked:
“Are we yours now?”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
He looked confused.
“You live with me.”
“I take care of you.”
“I love you.”
“But you are not mine like a car or a house.”
“What am I?”
I thought.
“Family.”
He smiled slightly.
“Forever?”
Dangerous question.
Courts.
Life.
Nothing guaranteed.
Then I chose the promise I could control.
“As long as you want me in your family, I will keep showing up.”
Leo considered it.
“Even when I’m old?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Forty.”
I stared.
“That is not old.”
He shrugged.
“Very old.”
I was forty-three.
I nearly ended kinship placement myself.
Maya laughed.
Then my phone vibrated.
Santos.
Another development.
I stepped away.
“What?”
“We searched Warren’s private clinic.”
“And?”
“Found hidden records.”
“What kind?”
“Rebecca.”
“Medication.”
“Insurance.”
“Emails.”
Then Santos paused.
“And something else.”
“What?”
“Ethan wasn’t their first target.”
I became very still.
“There was another patient.”
“Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Different woman.”
“Similar pattern.”
“Warren created cardiac symptoms.”
“Partner increased insurance.”
“She died.”
My blood went cold.
“Warren did this before.”
“Possibly.”
“How many?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked back at Leo and Maya.
A murder conspiracy that began as family betrayal might be larger than Ethan.
May you like
Rebecca had chosen a doctor who already knew how to make death look natural.
And if Santos was right, my brother was not the first person Caleb Warren helped turn into a life-insurance payout.
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