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MIA

Yulian’s car slows to a stop in front of the courthouse. I’m trembling with nerves. My palms are all clammy, my tongue dry as sandpaper.

“Thanks,” I whisper. “For driving me.”

It’s not what I want to say. What I’m feeling is too messy to unravel with a simple sentence. I’m not just grateful he took the time to drive me in person—I’m grateful he’s here, with me.

Even if he can’t be in there .

The judge is a tough cookie. If she so much as glimpsed him there, standing behind me, she’d interpret it as a threat. She wouldn’t take kindly to that.

So it’s just gonna have to be me, flying solo.

As if sensing my frazzled state of mind, he reaches for my hand. “If you’re not feeling up to this, Isaak can handle it, you know.”

“I know.” I squeeze back lightly. “But I want to do this. No—I need to do this.” My voice drops to a whisper. “For Eli.”

Yulian’s gaze has never been more intense. “If you want me to handle this?—”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”

It’s a bold-faced lie. I absolutely don’t got it, not any of it. But if I ask Yulian for help, he’s going to give me the kind I can’t afford.

He’s going to take care of Brad for good.

We’ve been over this a hundred times. I don’t want Brad killed. I just want him out of our lives.

And if I win this case, he will be. So I’m just gonna have to win.

“Hey.” He tilts my chin up. “It’s going to be fine.”

I give him a wry smile. “How do you figure?”

“Because you’re an amazing mother. And the judge would have to be an idiot not to see that.”

That drags a laugh out of me. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

We kiss briefly. It’s just a peck on the lips, nothing more, but it warms me from the inside. Enough to soothe another one of my worries.

For the past week, Yulian hasn’t been coming home at night. Not until it’s very, very late. This morning, I woke up to find him still dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me. His expression was complicated.

I don’t think he’s doing something as pedestrian as cheating. But he’s keeping something from me, something that reeks of Bratva business.

I tried to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t answer. Just kissed me deeply and pulled me into his arms.

Come to think of it, just like he’s doing now.

When we part, our foreheads touch each other. “Knock ‘em dead,” he tells me.

Actually, that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. “I’ll do my best.” My smile can’t be too convincing, but Yulian doesn’t press. He knows better than anyone how anxious I can get.

I steal one last kiss and fly out the door.

At the courthouse, my family’s already waiting. Kallie and Nikita are there, too. Surprisingly, so is Isaak.

I swallow my nerves. “Hi.”

“Ms. Winters.” He greets me formally, but not coldly. “I trust you’re ready for today.”

“I am.” Or at least I hope so. “What’s, um… what’s next?”

“We’ve got our witness list. Opposite side’s got theirs.” He flips through his folder as he says this. “The CPS testimonies are going to be the hardest to overcome. Any smoking gun I should know about?”

Besides the fact that my ex-boyfriend’s family is definitely involved in the brutal murder of my current boyfriend’s one? “Nope,” I blurt. “No, err, no guns. Of any kind.”

He shoots me a suspicious glance, but lets it be. “Then we’d better go inside.”

Sweat breaks out at the back of my neck. Today won’t be like the last time—that was just a preliminary hearing. This is the real deal.

If I lose this, they’ll take Eli.

But if I win…

Then no one will ever be able to take him from me again.

I swallow my nerves and walk into the courtroom.

Itzel Deloera’s up first. Her testimony is… friendly, as much as it can be.

But it’s also tragically objective. Smithers immediately asks her about the night of the fire, the circumstances that led there. She tries to be kind in her delivery, but there isn’t much she can do to soften the blow.

I left my son alone—fact.

He was three years old—fact.

He burned down the place—fact.

When Smithers puts it like that, even the judge can’t suppress a grimace.

Isaak’s cross-examination tries to play up Mrs. Deloera’s emotional side. And while she’s certainly full of praise about me as a person, the judge has already heard her character assassination of me as a mother.

“That wasn’t good,” Isaak murmurs once he’s done with his cross.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Nikita hisses. “I thought you were supposed to be decent at this.”

A vein starts popping on Isaak’s temple. “If you’re concerned with my performance, you’re free to give it a try yourself.”

“I’m not the one who went to Harvard fucking Law.”

“No,” he says, “I didn’t think you were.”

“Please, stop fighting,” I plead in the tiniest voice I can muster.

Nikita begrudgingly drops the issue. “So, what now?”

Now, it’s time for the final nail in my coffin. “Howard Lee’s up next,” I murmur, watching him walk up to the stand. “We are so fu?—”

“Mr. Lee,” Smithers says jovially. “Tell us about Ms. Winters.”

There it is. I’m dead.

My whole life starts flashing before my eyes. How could I ever think I’d win this? How could I delude myself that badly?

I thought Itzel’s testimony was going to be good for us. That it was going to mitigate whatever damage Lee might do. But that was all just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, my breath starts coming in short.

“Mia,” Isaak warns, “now is not the time.”

You try telling a panic attack that now is not the freaking time!

I force myself to breathe like I was taught. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. I pretend Yulian’s by my side, squeezing my hand. It’s not enough, but it’ll just have to do.

“Mr. Lee,” Smithers begins. “How would you characterize Ms. Winters as a mother?”

Lee’s eyes lock with mine. I swallow the lump in my throat.

Please, I whisper in my heart. Please, don’t take my son from me.

“Ms. Winters is…” He hesitates, clears his throat. “… an exemplary mother.”

Wait, what?

Smithers is thrown for a loop. Brad looks like he’d love nothing more than to throw something—possibly his own witness—but his lawyer is, thankfully, standing in the way.

“Is that a fact?” Smithers asks.

“It’s what I’ve been able to observe.” Lee’s gaze sweeps the audience. “She’s a hardworking single mother who’s been able to provide for her child without interruption. She’s even-tempered, patient, and attentive to his unique needs. Eli could do worse. Many kids do.”

The courtroom starts spinning again, but for a whole different reason. It’s not anxiety—it’s pure shellshock. Howard Lee, resident thorn in my behind, taking my side?

I glance out the window, but there are no pigs in the sky. Yet.

Isaak’s lips curve into a faint smirk. This testimony is an unexpected gift—he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.

But then a sinister light shines in Smithers’s eyes. “Sounds like you’re quite fond of her,” he counters expertly. “Almost to the point of bias.”

“Objection!” Isaak calls out. “If counsel’s so eager to testify, Your Honor, I’ve no qualms about putting him on the stand. Or, better yet, his client.”

The judge waves her hand dismissively. “Less theatrics, Mr. Noskov, but—sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase.” Smithers approaches the witness stand. “Isn’t it true, Mr. Lee, that you’re biased for the defendant?”

Lee doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he does something I’d never expect him to.

He snorts.

Smithers’s brow knits. “Something funny?”

“Not really.”

“Then you won’t mind answering the question.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, then…”

He sighs, visibly exasperated. “I am not biased for the defendant.” His bloodhound gaze cuts a sharp line to Brad. “In fact, if I were, I’d tell the court not to let her child within two feet of that psychopath who calls himself his father.”

Oh. My. God.

I can’t believe my ears. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. Did Howard Lee seriously just say that? In a court of freaking law? To Brad’s face?

“Holy shit,” Nikita whispers. “Should we call 911? ‘Cause I think I just witnessed a murder.”

For once, Isaak doesn’t disagree.

Brad’s face goes red. Smithers’s face goes redder. “That is outrageous slander, Mr. Lee.”

“I’m afraid I was sworn in, counselor. I’m supposed to tell the truth as I see it.”

Smithers starts spluttering incoherently. “Then—then—how do you explain the fire?”

“Easily.” His eyes move to me. “Ms. Winters was a young mother. She found herself in a difficult situation. She made a bad judgment call. The courts saw fit to let her keep her son under supervision— my supervision—and I say she’s never made another mistake since.”

The judge steps in. “Are you saying, Mr. Lee, that your professional assessment as caseworker is that the child Eli Winters should be left in the custody of his mother, Ms. Mia Winters?”

“I’m saying that I would find it cruel to take a child away from the only parent he’s ever known.” His eyes fix coldly on Brad. “Especially for the sake of a personal vendetta.”

“How do you know that’s what this is?” the judge asks.

“Because Mr. Baldwin came to me last summer to request Eli’s records.”

The audience murmurs. I grip the table to keep myself steady.

Last summer. Right after his wedding.

He knew the whole time, didn’t he?

“Is that true?” the judge presses. “I’ll remind you, Mr. Lee, that you’re under oath.”

“I am aware. And yes, it is,” he confirms. “And although I didn’t release the records to him at the time, as there was no proof he was who he claimed to be, it was pretty clear he suspected Eli to be his.

” Howard’s gaze sweeps to Brad again, full of contempt.

“If he was truly afraid for the child’s safety, he would have brought this suit then. ”

Smithers looks one step away from the grave. “We have no more questions for this witness,” he croaks.

“Oh, but we do, Your Honor,” Isaak says, looking every bit the wolf who ate the canary.

He proceeds to conduct a fifteen-minute cross, reiterating every point Howard just made. Within a couple of questions, he manages to rebuild my character in the judge’s eyes. I admit, my faith in Isaak has wavered a couple of times, but now, my doubts have been swept cleanly away.

The man is a cold-blooded killer.

Finally, my lawyer addresses the judge. “Your Honor, we request a dismissal based on this witness’s testimony.”

This is it. Relief washes over me, brighter than I’d ever felt it before. We’re going to win.

“Objection!” Smithers calls out, livid.

“On what grounds?” Isaak scoffs. “He was your last witness.”

“We petition the court for permission to call a rebuttal witness.”

Smithers’s eyes crinkle then. It’s a wicked smile, filled with malice, one that sets me on edge immediately.

Shit. They’ve got something.

Then I feel it. A ripple of air as someone stands behind me. On my side of the courtroom.

“The plaintiff calls Eugenia Collins to the stand.”