3. Legal Crossfire

LEGAL CROSSFIRE

T he wall of cameras hit before I even pulled into the courthouse parking lot. Vultures with press badges, hungry for the fall of a racing champion. Their flashes exploded against my windshield like starter lights, but this wasn't a race I knew how to run.

"Mr. Blue! Is it true about the custody battle?" "Elliot! Why did you really leave racing?" "Sources say your mental state?—"

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white. The Porsche's engine hummed, begging to accelerate through this circus. Wouldn't that be something for their headlines? 'Racing Champion Mows Down Reporters.' Vanessa's lawyers would love that.

Cassidy's town car pulled up beside me, her driver expertly creating a barrier between my Porsche and the media frenzy. Even through the tinted glass, I could see her mouth set in that battle-ready line that meant someone was about to regret crossing her.

"Ready?" Her voice crackled through my phone. "Security's clearing a path. Head high, no comments, straight to the door. Like we practiced."

Like we practiced. Everything was rehearsed now – my walk, my expressions, even the fucking tie she'd made me wear because it made me look "responsible and grounded." As if a piece of silk could convince anyone I deserved to keep my son.

The gauntlet from car to courthouse felt longer than any pit lane I'd ever walked. Microphones thrust at my face like weapons, questions hitting like debris in a crash.

"What does Tommy think about—" "Your ex-wife's allegations—" "Sources say you had a breakdown?—"

Cassidy materialized beside me, her small frame somehow commanding enough to part the sea of reporters. "No comments at this time. Mr. Blue is here to support his son's best interests. Now move."

Courtroom B smelled like furniture polish and fear. Not the kind of fear I got before a race - that was clean, sharp, almost friendly. This fear sat in my gut like lead, heavy and poisonous. My fingers wouldn't stop fidgeting with my tie.

"Stop touching it," Cassidy whispered, her hand landing on my restless fingers. "You've got this, Elliot. We're prepared."

Prepared. Right. Like you could ever be prepared to watch your ex-wife try to take your kid away. The wooden bench creaked under me as I shifted, my suit feeling too tight across my shoulders. Give me a firesuit and a track any day over this suffocating monkey suit and these polished wooden walls.

"They're saying I'm unstable." The words escaped before I could catch them. "That leaving racing proves?—"

"Proves you're putting your son first." Cassidy's voice carried steel. "Shows you're willing to sacrifice everything for Tommy. That's our narrative, remember?"

Narrative. Like my life had become just another story for people to twist. The coffee I'd forced down earlier churned in my stomach, bitter as the headlines they'd write no matter what happened today.

A commotion at the door drew my attention. More camera flashes, more shouted questions. Then I saw him - Tommy, my boy, slipping through the courtroom doors beside Vanessa. He wore the suit we'd bought together for his school pictures, the one he'd said made him look like a "tiny businessman." His hair stuck up in the back, just like mine always did, despite whatever product Vanessa had tried to tame it with.

Another camera flash caught him through the courtroom windows. My son flinched, and something in my chest cracked open. They'd followed him here, these vultures. Followed my eight-year-old kid just to get their money shot of the racing champion's custody battle.

"Dad!" His voice cut through everything – the fear, the cameras, the weight of judgment pressing down. He started toward me but Vanessa's hand landed on his shoulder, manicured nails digging in slightly.

"Tommy." She smiled for the cameras still peering through the windows. "Remember what we discussed about proper courtroom behavior.”

I watched my son's shoulders pull in, his smile dimming like someone had thrown a switch. That familiar mask slipped over his face – the perfect son, the proper child, everything Vanessa wanted him to be.

"Steady," Cassidy breathed beside me.

Vanessa, she looked exactly like she did at our wedding, all ice and elegance in her perfectly tailored cream suit. But her eyes - when had they gotten so cold? I remembered when those eyes used to light up at the sight of me, back when we were young and stupid and thought love could fix anything.

"All rise," the bailiff called out, and the room shuffled to its feet.

Vanessa's lawyer, Richard Sterling, looked like every asshole country club member who'd ever talked down to me before I made it big. His voice matched his appearance - smooth, cultured, and dripping with barely concealed contempt.

"Your Honor, we're here today because Mr. Blue has consistently demonstrated that racing takes precedence over parenting." Sterling's words hit like body blows. "His lifestyle is inherently unstable, his career choice dangerous, and his commitment to his son's well-being questionable at best."

My hands curled into fists under the table. Cassidy's warning touch on my arm didn't help much.

"Mr. Blue has missed seventeen of his son's school events this year alone," Sterling continued, consulting his notes like he was reading a fucking shopping list instead of dismantling my life. "He regularly travels at speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour, putting himself at risk of leaving his son fatherless. And most recently, he announced an indefinite career hiatus with no clear plan for financial stability."

The judge's pen scratched across her notepad. Each sound felt like nails on my future's coffin.

"Furthermore, Ms. Price has maintained a stable home environment, ensuring Tommy's attendance at one of the state's top-rated schools, managing his extracurricular activities, and providing the consistent presence every child needs."

Of course, she only used my last name when she was in front of the camera.

I wanted to scream. Wanted to tell them how Vanessa used those extracurriculars like weapons, scheduling them during my visitation times. How she'd "forgotten" to tell me about Tommy's science fair until it was too late to change my race schedule. How she'd turned my career - the thing that had given us everything - into evidence of my unfitness as a father.

Tommy sat beside her, shoulders slumped, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. A habit he'd picked up from me. So many little pieces of myself I saw in him, and here was this stuffed shirt trying to explain why that was a bad thing.

"Mr. Blue's recent behavior suggests increasing instability," Sterling pressed on. "His impulsive decision to step away from racing, while admirable in theory, demonstrates a pattern of erratic choices that could negatively impact Tommy's development."

Cassidy's hand tightened on my arm. My "impulsive decision" had been about choosing my son over everything else, but of course they'd twist it into another mark against me. That's what this whole thing was - taking every choice I'd made out of love and turning it into proof I wasn't good enough.

"Your Honor," Sterling concluded, "Ms. Price seeks primary custody not out of malice, but out of genuine concern for Tommy's welfare. She merely wants to provide the stability and consistency that Mr. Blue's lifestyle choices have made impossible."

Stability. Consistency. Words that sounded good in a courtroom but meant jack shit when your kid was crying because he missed his dad. I looked at Tommy again, caught him watching me with those serious green eyes - my eyes. He tried for another smile, braver than any eight-year-old should have to be.

Vanessa sat there like a statue, perfect posture, perfect clothes, perfect mask of concerned motherhood. Sometimes I caught glimpses of the woman I'd fallen in love with - in the way she smoothed Tommy's hair, or checked his tie was straight. But then she'd look at me with those arctic eyes, and I'd remember that love could turn to hate as fast as a car could spin out on a wet track.

Cassidy stood, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor with purpose. Unlike Sterling's manufactured warmth, her confidence was real. Made me glad she was in my corner.

"Your Honor," she began, her voice clear and strong, "Mr. Sterling has painted a convenient picture of my client, but he's left out the most important brushstrokes. Let's talk about what Elliot Blue actually did when faced with the choice between his career and his son."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Tommy sat up straighter, his attention locked on Cassidy. Even Vanessa's perfect mask slipped for a second.

"Three weeks ago, Mr. Blue was at the peak of his career. Leading the championship. Multi-million dollar contracts on the table. Everything he'd worked for within reach." Cassidy moved from behind our table, commanding the room like I used to command a track. "And he walked away from all of it. Not on a whim, not in a moment of instability, but with a single purpose - to be present for his son."

Sterling shifted in his seat, probably preparing some bullshit objection. But Cassidy was too quick.

"We have documentation of every attempt Mr. Blue made to attend his son's events. Emails requesting schedule changes. Texts from Ms. Price changing plans last minute. A pattern not of negligence, but of systematic obstruction."

I hadn't wanted Tommy to hear this part. But he was watching everything with those too-wise eyes, taking it all in. Vanessa's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"As for financial stability," Cassidy continued, laying out papers on the judge's bench, "Mr. Blue has substantial savings, investment properties, and multiple business interests outside of racing. His decision to step back from driving was made possible by years of careful planning. This is not a man acting on impulse, Your Honor. This is a father making a calculated choice to prioritize his child."

The judge studied the documents, her expression unreadable. I caught Tommy's eye again, tried to pour all my love into one look. He gave me that small smile that was pure him - no trace of Vanessa or me in it, just pure Tommy.

"Furthermore," Cassidy's voice took on an edge, "let's address the matter of danger. Yes, racing involves risk. But so does being a police officer, a firefighter, or any number of respected professions. Are we suggesting that every parent with a dangerous job is unfit? Or is this standard being selectively applied to my client?"

Sterling started to object, but the judge waved him down. Score one for Cassidy.

"The reality, Your Honor, is simple. Elliot Blue has restructured his entire life around being there for his son. He's asking for primary custody. He's asking for the chance to be present in his child's life. To attend those school events. To build that relationship. He's already proven he'll sacrifice everything else to make that happen."

My vision blurred a bit. Hadn't cried since Tommy was born, but damn if Cassidy wasn't pushing me close.

"We have character witnesses - teachers, neighbors, even Mr. Blue's crew chief - all ready to testify to his dedication as a father. We have documentation of every visitation he attempted to make, every event he tried to attend. Most importantly, we have a father who looked at everything he'd achieved and decided none of it mattered as much as his son."

Cassidy turned slightly, making eye contact with the judge. "The question isn't whether racing is dangerous, Your Honor. The question is what message we send when we punish a father for choosing his child over his career."

Tommy was beaming now, pride written all over his face. Vanessa's mask had cracked completely, showing something that might have been fear underneath.

"We're not asking for special treatment," Cassidy concluded. "We're asking for fair consideration of a father who has proven, through actions rather than words, that he will do anything for his child. Including walking away from everything else he's built."

She returned to her seat beside me, squeezing my arm briefly. The courtroom felt different now, like the air had shifted. The judge was still reviewing the documents, but her expression had softened slightly.

"Thank you, Ms. Thorne," she said finally. "We'll take a brief recess before hearing witness testimony."

The gavel cracked again, but this time it didn't make me flinch. For the first time since walking into this room, I felt something like hope.

Tommy jumped up, clearly wanting to come to me, but Vanessa's hand held firm. Their lawyer whispered something urgent in her ear. She didn't look like ice anymore - more like someone watching their perfect plan start to crack.

"You did good," Cassidy murmured. "Stay strong. This is just the beginning."

She was right. The race wasn't over. But maybe, just maybe, we weren't running on empty anymore.

That hope lasted exactly twelve minutes, right until Vanessa took the stand. She'd switched chairs like she switched personalities - gliding up there with that perfect posture and practiced grace that had once made her the darling of pit lane. Now she aimed all that charm at the judge, while I sat there watching my past get rewritten.

"Ms. Price," Sterling prompted, "could you describe your ex-husband's typical involvement in Tommy's daily life?"

Vanessa adjusted her cream blazer, a gesture I knew meant she was about to go in for the kill. "Elliot has always been... passionate about his career." The pause was surgical, calculated. "When he's present, he's wonderful with Tommy. The problem is how rarely that happens."

My hands clenched under the table. Passionate about my career - the same career she'd pushed me to pursue back when we were young and broke, living in a cramped apartment while I chased my racing dreams. "You're going to be somebody," she'd said then, stars in her eyes. "We're going to make it big, baby."

"Could you be more specific?" Sterling asked.

"Last month alone, Elliot missed Tommy's science fair, two soccer games, and a parent-teacher conference." Each event landed like a punch. "I had to explain to our son why daddy's practice laps were more important than his solar system project."

Bullshit. Pure fucking bullshit. She'd switched the science fair date without telling me, scheduled it knowing I had qualifying that day. But I kept my face neutral, just like Cassidy had drilled into me. Shows of emotion from men didn't play well in custody hearings.

The judge leaned forward. "Mrs. Price, how does Tommy handle these absences?"

"He tries to be brave about it." Vanessa's voice softened, perfectly modulated to convey maternal concern. She turned to give Tommy a gentle smile - the same smile she used to give sponsors' wives. "But I see how it affects him. Children need consistency, Your Honor. They need to know they come first."

I caught Tommy's eye for a split second. He looked confused, like he was trying to match his mother's words with his own memories. That hurt worse than anything - watching my son try to figure out which version of his father was real.

"And now Mr. Blue has suddenly put his racing on hold,” Sterling continued. "How has that affected Tommy's routine?"

Vanessa dabbed at her eyes with a tissue I hadn't even seen her grab. Oscar-worthy performance. "Tommy was devastated. Racing has been his father's whole life - our whole life. For Elliot to just walk away like that, without any plan, any stability..." She shook her head. "It terrifies me to think what other impulsive decisions he might make."

My whole body went hot, then cold. Impulsive decisions? Like the time she'd impulsively maxed out our credit cards buying furniture for a house we couldn't afford? Or when she'd impulsively enrolled Tommy in private school without discussing it, then used the tuition as leverage?

"Your Honor," Cassidy stood, "this characterization of my client's career decision-"

"Goes directly to the question of stability," Sterling interrupted. "Mrs. Price, how would you describe your approach to parenting compared to Mr. Blue's?"

Vanessa straightened, hitting her mark perfectly. "I've structured my entire life around Tommy's needs. His school schedule determines my work schedule. His activities are my priorities. I don't have to choose between my son and my career because I've already made that choice."

The judge nodded, making notes. "And what provisions have you made for Tommy's future?"

"I've researched the best schools in our area. Started a college fund. Maintained relationships with his teachers, his doctors, his coaches." Each word built her fortress of maternal perfection higher. "Tommy's life with me is stable, structured, secure."

All the things she claimed I couldn't provide. Never mind that my "impulsive" career had funded every bit of that stability. Never mind that I'd started Tommy's college fund the day he was born, or that I knew every one of his teachers by name.

"Ms. Price," the judge spoke again, "how do you envision co-parenting with Mr. Blue going forward?"

Vanessa's mask slipped for just a moment - a flash of something bitter and angry before the perfect smile returned. "I want Tommy to have a relationship with his father. But it needs to be consistent, reliable. Not just when it's convenient or when Elliot decides racing isn't exciting anymore."

Tommy fidgeted in his seat, picking at that loose thread again. I wanted to tell him to stop, that he'd unravel his whole sleeve, but that was Vanessa's job now. She turned to give him another reassuring smile, this one calculated to show the court what a attentive mother she was.

"I'm simply asking for the chance to provide our son with the stability he deserves," she concluded, managing to sound both reasonable and wounded. "Every decision I've made has been for Tommy's benefit. I just wish Elliot could say the same."

The courtroom felt airless, like the moment before a crash when time slows down and you know impact is coming but can't do anything to stop it. I watched Vanessa step down from the stand, every movement graceful, every gesture designed to reinforce her image as the perfect mother.

My fingers dug into my palms hard enough to leave marks. Every bullshit word she'd said about my "passionate career" and "impulsive decisions" burned in my chest like acid. One sharp movement and I'd flip this whole fucking table-

"Steady," Cassidy whispered, her hand light but firm on my arm. "Tommy's watching. Show him who you really are."

Right. Tommy. I forced my hands to relax, found his eyes across the room. My boy. The only trophy that ever really mattered.

The judge called for recess, her gavel crack making everyone jump. People started shuffling out, but I barely noticed them. My focus locked on Tommy, bouncing in his seat like he was ready to sprint to me.

"Fifteen minutes," the judge announced. "Mr. Blue, you may speak with your son in the presence of the court officer."

I didn't need to be told twice. My legs carried me across the room before my brain caught up, and then Tommy was there, crashing into me like he always did. I dropped to one knee, pulling him close, breathing in that mix of kid shampoo and fruit snacks that meant home.

"Dad," he mumbled into my shoulder, fingers clutching my suit jacket. "You're squishing me."

"Sorry, champ." I loosened my grip but didn't let go. Couldn't. "How you holding up?"

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his face scrunched up in that way that meant he was thinking hard. "Mom said you quit racing because you're mad at her. But that's not true, right? You quit for me?"

Fuck. Trust a kid to cut straight through the bullshit. "I quit because being your dad is the most important job I'll ever have. More important than any race."

"But you loved racing." His lower lip trembled slightly. "And now everything's all messed up and Mom cries when she thinks I'm sleeping and you're not home anymore and-"

"Hey." I caught his shoulders, gentle but firm. "Look at me, buddy." Those green eyes - my eyes - met mine. "Sometimes grown-ups make things complicated. But there's one thing that'll never change, no matter what happens in that courtroom. You know what that is?"

He sniffed. "What?"

"Knock knock."

A tiny smile appeared. "Who's there?"

"Love."

"Love who?"

"Love you more than racing." We finished together, our old joke carrying more weight than ever.

Movement caught my eye - Vanessa, standing by the water fountain, watching us. For a moment, her face showed everything: grief, regret, maybe even a trace of the love we'd once shared. She looked as broken as I felt.

Then Tommy turned toward her, and the mask came back. Perfect mother. Protective guardian. But I'd seen beneath it now, seen that maybe she was bleeding too.

"Time to go, sweetie," she called, her voice honey-sweet but eyes sharp as steel. "You need to use the bathroom before we go back in."

Tommy's arms tightened around me. "I don't want to."

"It's okay," I whispered, though it was anything but okay.

I watched him walk to Vanessa, his little shoulders straight despite everything. She placed her hand on his back, guiding him away, but not before throwing one last look over her shoulder. Our eyes met, and for a second, I saw every dream we'd ever shared, every promise we'd broken, every moment that had led us here.