18. Cara

Chapter eighteen

Cara

T he first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. I blink awake, my hand instinctively moving to my swollen belly. The baby kicks, a gentle reminder of why we're fighting so hard.

"Good morning, little one," I murmur, rubbing slow circles over my stomach. "Today's a big day for us."

As I stretch, my muscles protest, a bittersweet reminder of June's desperate passion just days ago. My fingers trace the fading marks on my neck, and a shiver runs through me - part desire, part fear. We danced so close to the edge that night, teetering between love and something darker.

The space beside me is empty, the sheets cold. June's absence is a physical ache, a void I can't seem to fill. He should be here, holding my hand, whispering reassurances as we face this battle together. But the doctors were adamant - he's not stable enough for the stress of court. Not yet.

I force myself out of bed, padding to the bathroom on bare feet. The cool tile sends a shock through my system, grounding me in the present. I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman who looks back at me. Dark circles shadow my eyes, my skin pale and drawn. I look... haunted.

"Pull it together, Cara," I mutter, splashing cold water on my face. "You've got this."

But do I? The doubt gnaws at me, insidious and relentless. What if I'm not strong enough? What if Elaine's lies and manipulation are too much to overcome?

A soft knock at the door interrupts my spiral. "Cara?" Natalie's voice filters through, warm with concern. "You okay in there?"

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Yeah, I'm good. Be out in a minute."

Voices and laughter drift up from downstairs, pulling me from my reverie. I throw on a robe and make my way to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene before me.

Mama stands at the stove, flour dusting her cheek as she flips pancakes. Legacy, Dante's son, perches on a stool beside her, his little face scrunched in concentration as he stirs batter. And there, looking more relaxed than I've seen him in months, is June. He's seated at the table, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the domestic scene unfold.

For a moment, my throat tightens with emotion. This is what we're fighting for – this warmth, this sense of family.

"Cara!" Legacy spots me first, his face lighting up. "Come see the pancakes we made!"

June's eyes meet mine, a world of unspoken promises passing between us. But before he can rise, Judith sweeps into the room, her expression a mix of exasperation and grudging amusement.

"There you are," she says, eyeing the marks on my neck with raised eyebrows. "I hope you two got that out of your system. We've got work to do."

Reality crashes back, the weight of our impending court date settling over me like a shroud. June reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. "We've got this," he murmurs, but I can hear the uncertainty beneath his words.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of preparation. Judith and Dante's legal team grill me on potential questions, rehearsing my responses until they're satisfied. By lunchtime, my head is spinning with legal jargon and carefully crafted answers.

"You need to eat," Mama insists, setting a plate before me. The smell of her homemade lasagna usually makes my mouth water, but now it just turns my stomach. I force down a few bites, knowing I need to keep up my strength for the baby.

As the afternoon wears on, tension builds in the house like a gathering storm. June grows restless, pacing the length of the living room. I know it's killing him that he can't be there with me in court.

"I should be there," he growls, running a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. "I can't just sit here while you face her alone."

I catch his hand, pulling him close. "I won't be alone," I remind him gently. "Dante and Judith will be there. And you'll be with me in spirit."

He cups my face, his eyes burning with intensity. "Promise me you won't let her get to you. No matter what she says or does."

I nod, even as doubt gnaws at my insides. "I promise."

The morning of the hearing dawns bright and clear, mocking the turmoil in my heart. I dress with shaking hands, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from my conservative blue dress.

June catches me at the door, pulling me into a fierce embrace. "I love you," he whispers fiercely. "Both of you. Remember that, no matter what happens in there."

The ride to the courthouse is a blur of last-minute advice and reassurances. Dante's hand is steady on my back as we climb the steps, flashbulbs popping as reporters shout questions. I keep my head high, channeling every ounce of strength I can muster.

"Remember," Dante murmurs, his hand a steadying presence on my back. "Keep your cool in there. No matter what Elaine throws at you, don't let her see you sweat."

I nod, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. It tastes of exhaust and fear and the faintest hint of hope.

The courtroom is a pressure cooker of tension, the air thick with anticipation and the acrid scent of nervous sweat. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead as we make our way to our seats, refusing to give Elaine the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

But I can feel her presence like a malevolent shadow, her perfectly coiffed exterior belying the venom beneath. When I finally dare to glance her way, the triumphant gleam in her eyes makes my blood run cold.

The judge enters, a stern-faced woman with steel-gray hair and eyes that could cut glass. "All rise," the bailiff intones, and I struggle to my feet, one hand protectively cradling my belly.

What follows is a grueling marathon of testimonies and cross-examinations. Elaine's lawyers paint a picture of June and me as unstable, unfit parents - a danger to ourselves and our unborn child. They dredge up every mistake, every moment of weakness, twisting them into weapons to be used against us.

I sit there, my nails digging crescents into my palms, as former friends and acquaintances recount June's darkest moments. The bar fights, the reckless behavior, the cold fury that could descend without warning. With each damning statement, I feel our chances slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

But then it's our turn. Dante's team calls character witnesses of their own - people who've seen the changes in June, who can testify to his commitment to getting better. Sarah takes the stand, her voice steady as she recounts June's progress in therapy, his unwavering dedication to being a good father.

Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance.

And then it's my turn to testify. I take the stand on shaking legs, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it. The oath feels heavy on my tongue, a promise I'm terrified of breaking.

Elaine's lawyer is a shark in designer heels, her questions carefully crafted to expose every vulnerability, every doubt. She picks apart my relationship with June, insinuating that I'm either blind to his faults or complicit in his instability.

"Ms. Briers," she says, her voice dripping with false concern, "are you not worried about your child's safety, given Mr. Deveaux's history of violence?"

I take a deep breath, centering myself before I answer. "June has never been violent towards me," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "He's getting help, working hard to be the best father he can be. I trust him completely with our child's safety."

"Even after he assaulted you just days ago?" she counters, producing photos of the bruises on my neck with a flourish.

The courtroom erupts in whispers, and I feel the blood drain from my face. How did they get those? Who could have-

"Objection!" our lawyer shouts, but the damage is done. I can see the doubt creeping into the judge's eyes, the way her mouth tightens with disapproval.

The rest of my testimony is a blur of defensive statements and carefully worded explanations. By the time I step down, I'm drained, my throat raw and my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

We break for lunch, but I can't eat. The knot in my stomach has grown into a writhing mass of anxiety and dread. Natalie tries to coax me into taking a few bites, but the smell of food just makes me nauseous.

"It's not over yet," Dante reassures me, his voice low and urgent. "We've still got closing arguments. Don't give up hope."

I nod mechanically, but inside, I'm screaming. How can I not give up hope when everything seems to be crumbling around us?

The afternoon session drags on, a parade of expert witnesses and legal maneuvering that makes my head spin. I find myself drifting, my hand absently stroking my belly as I imagine a future where none of this matters. Where June and I are far away from here, raising our child in peace.

Finally, mercifully, it's time for closing arguments. Our lawyer goes first, his impassioned plea for understanding and compassion ringing through the courtroom. He paints a picture of two young people committed to building a family, of a man working tirelessly to overcome his demons for the sake of his child.

But Elaine's lawyer is a master manipulator, her words weaving a tapestry of doubt and fear. She speaks of the risks, the potential for tragedy if the court doesn't intervene. By the time she's finished, I can see the sympathy in the jury's eyes has turned to wary concern.

The judge calls for a recess to consider her verdict, and we're left to wait in agonizing suspense. The minutes crawl by like hours, each tick of the clock a hammer blow to my fraying nerves.

When we're called back in, I can barely breathe. The judge's face is unreadable as she delivers her verdict, each word landing like a physical blow.

"Given the unique circumstances of this case," she intones, "I am ordering a temporary joint custody arrangement."

The room erupts in chaos, but I can't move, can't breathe. Joint custody. With Elaine. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach.

"Furthermore," the judge continues, silencing the uproar with a sharp rap of her gavel, "to ensure the health and safety of both Ms. Briers and her unborn child, I am ordering that she reside with Mrs. Deveaux for the duration of her pregnancy."

The world spins, the floor dropping out from beneath me. Live with Elaine? In that cold, sterile mausoleum she calls a home? It's a nightmare, a twisted joke.

But as I look at Dante and Judith, at the grim resignation in their eyes, I know it's all too real.

Elaine approaches, her smile a predator's grin. "Well," she purrs, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "It seems we'll be roommates, my dear. Won't that be lovely?"

I stare at her, this woman who has caused us so much pain, who now holds the keys to my gilded cage. And in that moment, I make a silent vow.

I will play her game. I will smile and nod and be the perfect houseguest. But when the time comes, when she least expects it...

I will burn her world to the ground.

For June. For our child. For the family we've fought so hard to build.

Let the games begin.

The judge's words echo in my ears, a death knell to my hopes. Before I can fully process what's happening, hands are on me, pulling me to my feet. Dante's face swims into view, his expression a mask of shock and fury.

"This isn't over," he growls, but his voice sounds distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears.

The courtroom spins around me, a dizzying kaleidoscope of faces and colors. I catch glimpses of Natalie's tear-streaked cheeks, Judith's clenched jaw. The acrid taste of defeat coats my tongue.

Suddenly, Mama's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and clear as a bell. "You can't do this!" she shouts, her accent thickening with rage. "She's my daughter, not some pawn in your sick games!"

I turn to see her confronting Elaine, finger jabbing accusatorily. The air crackles with tension, heavy and oppressive. Flashbulbs pop, the harsh light searing my retinas. Our private pain has become a public spectacle.

"Now, now," Elaine purrs, her voice dripping honeyed venom. "Let's not make a scene. The judge has made her decision. For the good of the child, of course."

The baby kicks, as if sensing my distress. I curl my arms protectively around my belly, bile rising in my throat. This can't be happening. This can't be real.

But it is. Oh God, it is.

Elaine's hand closes around my arm, her grip deceptively gentle. "Come along, dear. We have so much to discuss."

I try to pull away, but my limbs feel leaden, uncoordinated. The room tilts alarmingly, and for a moment I think I might faint.

"Cara!" Mama's voice again, thick with tears now. "Tesoro mio, don't let them take you!"

I want to run to her, to bury myself in her arms like I did when I was small. But Elaine is steering me towards the exit, her nails digging into my skin.

"You'll see your mother soon enough," she murmurs, for my ears alone. "Once we've established some ground rules."

The cool air outside the courthouse hits me like a slap, shocking me back to awareness. Reporters swarm, shouting questions, thrusting microphones in my face. The cacophony is overwhelming, a sensory assault that leaves me reeling.

"Ms. Briers, how do you feel about the verdict?" "Mrs. Deveaux, what are your plans for your grandchild?" "Is it true that Mr. Deveaux has been institutionalized?"

I stumble, my heel catching on an uneven paver. Elaine's arm snakes around my waist, steadying me. To the cameras, it must look like a gesture of support. I know better.

"No comment," Elaine says smoothly, her smile never wavering. "We're simply focused on ensuring the health and safety of both mother and child."

As she guides me towards a waiting town car, I catch one last glimpse of my family. Dante, his face thunderous as he argues with our lawyer. Natalie, held back by Judith as she tries to push through the crowd. And Mama, her anguished cry cutting straight to my heart:

"Cara! Non dimenticare chi sei!" Don't forget who you are.

The car door closes with a soft thud, muffling the chaos outside. I sink into the plush leather seat, trembling with shock and exhaustion and a rage so deep it scares me.

Elaine settles beside me, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. "Well," she says brightly, as if we've just concluded a pleasant business lunch. "Shall we discuss the new living arrangements?"

I turn to look at her, this woman who's torn my world apart. Her eyes glitter with triumph, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. And in that moment, something crystallizes within me. A resolve, hard and unyielding as diamond.

I will survive this. I will protect my child. And when the time is right, I will make Elaine Deveaux regret the day she ever heard the name Cara Briers.