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M y life was obviously some kind of farce because a few weeks ago, I’d been pacing the garden barefoot, crying my eyes out.

Now I was sitting upstairs on the sofa with a box of paperwork, trying to find hard copies of my custody filings and evaluations and bloody social services reports that I’d hoped I’d never have to see again.

I’d once been frighteningly organised, and now I wasn’t, which was why Jean turned up in the early hours of the morning with too many cups of coffee and some kind of tiger mindset that scared me a little.

Well, I was the one who’d taken her on, all those years ago, exactly because of that mindset and how she would get up in the middle of the night to help me find things, rip into clients when I lost my nerve and get my working day neatly in line.

Just like she was doing now at six in the morning, when my phone rang unexpectedly. Unknown number.

“I had a message from Stewart with regards to those documents,” a gravelly voice said when I tentatively picked up.

I’d half expected a crank call. Some scammer questioning my recent accident of some sorts.

The last thing I’d expected was…this. “I thought I’d cut to the chase.

Did some poking around during the night, you know what it’s like.

I sleep four hours per night, and the rest is all cigarettes and coffee.

So tell me. How hard do you want me to go?

Thumbscrews? Slight pressure? Or go straight for the silver stake? ”

I’d come across Gun before—we’d studied at the same university—and knew she always talked in those bizarre riddles. But she’d always been pretty straightforward with me. Or so I’d thought.

“I want access to my children. In a dream world, I’d ask for full custody and the children returned to me in England, with immediate effect. But I am under no illusion that that outcome will be on the cards.”

She groaned. “You were always a doormat, Dylan. Don’t start acting like you’re still Veronica’s lapdog because that will get us nowhere. What is it that you want?”

I felt like a naughty child in her courtroom, but I got what she was saying.

“I want full custody and my children returned to me.”

“And?”

I had no idea. “And an apology and some kind of settlement?” I stuttered out before I could stop myself.

“Only so you can pay me, Scotland, but I’m making no promises. I need a meeting and those files couriered over right now. I don’t expect to wait. I do my best work in the mornings. I’m due in court at eleven, and I hate having my schedule interrupted.”

Yes. I could see why Veronica had detested the woman. Too much brusque honesty in your face. That’s what she’d said. I suddenly remembered that.

“I will organise it to be sent now. Just need an address. ”

“Oh, I don’t do those,” she said curtly. “The Exchange. Stewart will know.”

She hung up.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, the palpitations in my chest making me want to throw up.

“That was…Gun Larsen.”

“Excellent.”

“She said The Exchange? Like you’d know?”

“Private club. I know the manager.”

“Is there anyone you don’t know, Stewart? I’m starting to think all this gripe about not being able to find a job is a ruse. You seem to be the most well-connected man I know. Driving celebrities and knowing Gun Larsen and—”

“Don’t forget that The Reuben is my son.”

The Reuben. He sighed as I laughed. We seemed to need it.

“The Dieter is one of my favourite actors,” Jean piped up from the chair in the corner, where she was filing documents into a binder. “He was excellent in that period drama. Won awards for that one, didn’t he? ”

“I don’t know,” I said. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.

“The Dieter is some guy on TV,” Stewart huffed, shuffling in the chair. “My son is married to a scruffy mess called Gray, and he’s nothing like…an award-winning superstar or something. Do you want me to drive those documents over?”

“You look like you would crash that car in an instant. We’ve been up all night.”

“Do you mind if I grab forty winks upstairs?” Jean slapped the binder onto the table.

“The complete works. If The Gun needs anything else, she can ask for it. Did you know that she doesn’t even have a PA?

Does everything herself. I heard lots of rumours about her years ago, but…

well, seems she’s calmed down as of late. Not caused as much drama.”

“She’s still the top-ranked family lawyer in the UK,” I said. “I always thought that was why Veronica left—because she just couldn’t hold on to that top spot. Larsen was always one notch ahead.”

“Nonsense,” Jean dismissed. “Veronica is in a completely different league. Brutal. Can I say it?”

“Dishonest,” I filled in. “Plays dirty. I never liked it. ”

“But you put up with it.” Jean sat down again. “You need to stop this, Dylan.”

“Stop what?” I protested feebly. I was exhausted. For once, I would probably fall asleep the minute I hit the mattress.

“The doormat thing. Larsen was right about that. You let Veronica stomp all over you, and you never once told her off. She made the rules, and you bowed down to every single one. The kids’ names, the working hours, the private schools, the nannies…

you name it. You never once spoke up. Maybe you should remember that. ”

“That’s…” I started, feeling the emotion rise. “I did!”

“You didn’t. And it ends now. I liked how Gun Larsen spoke to you. Stop asking for titbits. You know what you want, and now is the time to take control. You heard Constance. She wants to take her brothers and come home. So let’s make that happen!”

She made it sound so easy. Even Stewart agreed, nodding like he knew what that would look like.

Veronica would destroy me. Or she would if she hadn’t done that already. Was I frightened? You bet. Was I still going ahead with this?

I had no bloody choice. I nodded as Jean picked up her phone.

“The courier is on his way. The Exchange. I’m going to ring them and make sure they know to expect our documents.”

“Ask for Mabel,” Stewart said. “And on that note, I’m going to bed.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, standing up.

I was so goddamn tired. The last couple of weeks were finally catching up with me, like having to use my brain had exhausted me to the point where I almost fell down the stairs before falling head first onto the bed…

Only to find Stewart stumbling down behind me.

“Going to take my cups back. I have none in the cupboards anymore. They’re all squatting here.”

“Might as well leave them,” I muttered. “Tea in the morning.”

“It’s eleven thirty. Lunchtime in the real world. No tea.”

“Wake me up later?” I asked. I had no idea why.

“Want me to tuck you in?” He laughed .

“I have no idea how to even move.” I tried to shuffle over, as he was suddenly there, tugging at the duvet, shaking it out and covering my legs, then shaking his head as he pulled off my socks.

“Used to do this with my son, all the time. He’d come in and fall asleep in his clothes. So I’d tug his socks off and tuck him in. Sit down on the bed and stroke his hair.”

“Really?”

He sat down on the bed next to me, though he didn’t stroke my hair. I kind of wanted him to. Anything to calm me.

“I’m so overtired I can barely think,” I admitted.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get across the grass to get home. I haven’t been awake all night for years.”

“I haven’t wanted to sleep for years. Not like this.”

Steady fingers combed through my mop. It was nice. Surprisingly so.

“You’ve done really well. I’m proud of you.”

I knew my emotions were running high, but I hadn’t realised how much I’d needed this. A bit of human connection. Someone to notice .

To be seen. Understood.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He yawned. Moved as if he was going to get up.

“You can stay,” I suggested, moving over further. “Just lie down. Rest.”

“I can’t sleep in your bed, Dylan.”

“Wanna bet?” I turned my back to him. “Rest. Busy days ahead.”

The way the bed dipped made me think he’d got up, but then he tugged at the duvet, got in and just lay there. Breathing.

It had been so long since I’d slept with someone by my side.

When Veronica had been home, I hadn’t been able to relax, always expecting a scolding or a sneer or a crude remark.

She hadn’t been happy. Neither had I. At least she had ended it before I’d gone completely mad. Or maybe before she had.

“This is strange. But nice,” he said, mid-yawn, from behind my back .

“Easy,” I mumbled, half asleep. “And I’ll expect a cup of tea when we wake up.”

“Gonna have to start teaching you to make a proper cuppa, Dylan.”

I smiled.

I hadn’t felt happy in such a long time that I wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. Hope was a dangerous thing, and if I had been terrified before, this time was a hundred times worse, but in a different way.

I wasn’t alone, and I fell asleep holding on to that thought, the scent of my daughter’s hair still lingering in my brain.

Next thing I knew, my phone was ringing. I reached out and picked it up, my heart beating out of my chest.

“Dylan,” the voice said. Gravel. A puff from a cigarette.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to ask you which way this is going.

Instead, I’m going to grab Veronica Scotland by the balls and run with this.

The decree was ex parte. And the temporary order from last year wasn’t filed properly. Who represents you?”

I tried to sit up. “Ehr…Parker Summers, first time around, and after that, I self-represented. ”

“You absolute twat.”

“I’m a lawyer,” I tried to defend myself, but I knew. Of course I knew.

“One who needs to learn his limitations.”

That told me.

“You’d better get ready to fight because you have one hell of a match coming up. Don’t let me down, Dylan.”

“I won’t,” I managed to huff out.

She hung up. Bloody hell. I let the phone drop to the floor as my head hit the pillow. For heaven’s sake.

“Go back to sleep,” Stewart said. “I’ve got you.”

He had no idea how much I’d needed to hear just that.

Or perhaps he did.

I slept. And I didn’t dream a single thing.