Chapter 17 - Court of WolvesThe emergency hearing took place in a courtroom too small for the number of people pretending not to enjoy the spectacle.
Reporters filled the hallway. Blackwood attorneys filled the front row. Helena appeared by video from custody, wearing a navy blazer and an expression of wounded dignity.
I sat beside Isla.
That alone started whispers.
Good.
Let them whisper.
Helena’s lead attorney argued that Isla was emotionally compromised, financially unstable, and vulnerable to “coercion by hostile parties seeking control of Blackwood Global.”
Hostile parties meant me.
Control meant inheritance.
The unborn child meant leverage.
Then Helena appeared on the screen, voice trembling beautifully.
“I only want to protect my grandchild.”
I watched the judge soften slightly.
Helena was good.
Monsters often are.
My attorney rose.
“Your Honor, Mrs. Helena Blackwood is currently under federal indictment related to financial crimes, witness intimidation, and the attempted flight from jurisdiction. We have evidence that her custody motion is part of a broader coercive succession plan.”
Helena closed her eyes as if wounded.
The judge leaned forward.
“What evidence?”
We played the recording from Grant’s hidden drive.
Helena’s voice filled the courtroom.
“If Celeste resists, we isolate her. If Isla becomes sentimental, we remove her. Babies do not need mothers. They need structure.”
The courtroom went dead silent.
Isla covered her mouth.
On the screen, Helena’s face did not move.
That was how I knew she had lost.
Not legally. Not fully.
But publicly.
The mask had cracked in front of strangers who could not be fired from her dining room.
The judge denied Helena’s petition and issued protective orders for Isla and the child.
But the hearing was not over.
My attorney then filed the Voss restoration claim.
Gasps moved through the room.
The judge scanned the first page, then the second. His expression shifted from impatience to concern.
“This court will schedule an expedited evidentiary review.”
Helena spoke suddenly from the screen.
“Your Honor, I request to address Mrs. Blackwood.”
My attorney objected.
The judge hesitated, then allowed one sentence.
Helena looked at me through the monitor.
“You think winning in court makes you safe.”
I leaned toward the microphone.
“No,” I said. “I think telling the truth in public makes you weaker.”
Her eyes flashed.
There she was.
Not grandmother. Not matriarch.
Wolf.
Outside the courtroom, Isla gripped my arm.
“Why help me?”
I looked at her stomach.
“Because no child should be born already owing the Blackwoods a debt.”
She began to cry.
I did not hug her.
May you like
Forgiveness was not required for protection.
That was another lesson my mother had left me.
