Chapter 7
The social worker arrived two days later.
Her name was Margaret Chen. She was in her fifties, with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She carried a leather notebook and looked like she'd seen every trick in the book.
I was ready for her.
The penthouse was spotless. Noah's room was perfect—crib made, diapers stocked, clothes organized by size. I'd even had the building's security logs prepared, showing that Emily and Noah never left the building without me or a security detail.
"Mr. Rowan," Margaret said, shaking my hand. "Mrs. Carter."
"Ms. Carter," Emily corrected softly. "We're divorced."
"Of course." Margaret opened her notebook. "I'm here to follow up on a report filed by Richard Carter regarding the welfare of Noah James Carter. I understand he's your son, Mr. Rowan?"
"He is," I said. "And I've been fully involved in his life since I learned of his existence four days ago."
Margaret looked at Emily. "And you, Ms. Carter? Why didn't you inform Mr. Rowan of your pregnancy?"
Emily took a deep breath. I reached over and squeezed her hand.
"I was scared," she said honestly. "Our marriage was ending. Gavin was... distant. I thought if I told him I was pregnant, he'd either pressure me to terminate or use his resources to take Noah away from me. I know now that was wrong. But at the time, it felt like the only way to protect my baby."
Margaret made a note.
"And Richard Carter? He claims he's been concerned about Noah's welfare for months. That you were living in inadequate conditions, that you couldn't provide for your child."
Emily's hand tightened around mine.
"Richard is my brother," she said. "And he's been threatening me for months. He found out I was pregnant and started demanding money in exchange for keeping my secret. He said if I didn't pay, he'd tell Gavin. He'd tell the press. He'd make sure I lost Noah."
She picked up her phone and showed Margaret the text messages.
The social worker read through them, her expression growing more serious with each message.
"These are disturbing," she said when she finished.
"Richard isn't concerned about Noah's welfare," I said. "He's concerned about paying off his gambling debts. He owes nearly half a million dollars to loan sharks and casinos. He has a criminal record for fraud and embezzlement. This report he filed? It's just another extortion attempt."
I handed Margaret the file Marcus had prepared. Richard's criminal record. His financial records. Everything.
She read through it quickly.
When she finished, she looked up at us.
"I'd like to see the baby," she said.
I brought her to Noah's room. He was awake, lying in his crib, kicking his legs and cooing at a mobile above him.
Margaret stood over the crib, watching him.
"He looks healthy," she said. "Happy."
"He is," Emily said, her voice warm. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me. To both of us."
Margaret turned to look at us. She saw Emily standing beside me, our hands still clasped. She saw the way we both looked at Noah—with nothing but love and devotion.
"I'm going to be honest with you both," she said, closing her notebook. "I've seen a lot of cases where family members use the system to hurt each other. This looks like one of those cases."
She paused.
"I'm not going to remove Noah from your care. The allegations of neglect are unfounded. The baby is clearly loved and well provided for. But I will need to do follow-up visits. And I'd like to see both of you establish a formal custody arrangement—one that puts Noah's best interests first."
Relief flooded through me. Emily sagged against me, and I put my arm around her.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet," Margaret said. "Your brother is clearly troubled, Ms. Carter. And he's not going to stop with one report. You need to protect yourselves. Legally and otherwise."
She left a few minutes later.
As soon as the door closed, Emily turned to me and threw her arms around my neck. She was crying, but they were tears of relief.
"He didn't win," she whispered. "He didn't take him."
I held her tight.
"Of course he didn't win," I said. "We have the truth on our side. And we have each other."
Noah cooed from his crib. I walked over and picked him up. He looked up at me with those green eyes and smiled—a real, gummy smile that melted my heart.
"Hey, buddy," I said. "You're safe. We're all safe."
Emily came over and stood beside me. She put her hand on Noah's back, and her other hand on my arm.
"We're a family," she said softly.
"We are," I agreed.
The moment was perfect. But I knew it wasn't over.
Richard had lost this battle. But he wouldn't accept defeat gracefully. Not when he owed half a million dollars to dangerous people.
My phone rang.
The private investigator.
"Mr. Rowan," he said. "Richard just left his apartment with a duffel bag. He's heading toward the airport. And based on his recent calls and movements, I think he's planning to run."
"Run?" I said. "Why would he run?"
"The loan sharks he owes money to? They're looking for him. He knows he can't pay. And now that his CPS report failed, he's got nothing left to leverage. I think he's planning to leave the country."
"Can you stop him?" I asked.
"I can follow him. But the police... they don't have enough to arrest him yet. Not without the formal charges being filed."
I thought quickly.
Richard was running. But he wouldn't leave without trying to get what he felt he was owed. Not when he was desperate.
"Keep following him," I said. "Let me know the second he changes direction or makes any contact with Emily or me."
I hung up.
Emily looked at me, concern on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Richard is planning to run," I said. "He's heading to the airport."
Emily's eyes widened. "Then... then it's over? He's leaving us alone?"
I thought about the kind of man Richard was. Greedy. Vindictive. Desperate.
"No," I said slowly. "If he's going to run, he'll want money first. And the only people he can get money from are us."
As if on cue, Emily's phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered it and put it on speaker.
"Gavin," Richard's voice came through. He sounded breathless, frantic. "You think you've won? You think that social worker's report means anything?"
"Where are you, Richard?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter where I am. What matters is what I have. I have photos, Gavin. Photos of Emily during her pregnancy. Photos of Noah. Proof that she hid him from you for nine months. I sell these to the tabloids, and your reputation is ruined. Your company's stock plummets. Everything you've built... gone."
I exchanged a look with Emily. Her face was pale.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Five hundred thousand dollars," Richard said. "Cash. By midnight tonight. You bring it to the old warehouse at the docks. Alone. No cops. No tricks. Or I sell the photos and disappear."
Before I could respond, the call ended.
Emily looked at me, fear in her eyes.
"What do we do?" she whispered.
May you like
I looked at Noah, sleeping peacefully in my arms. Then I looked at the woman I loved.
"We do what we have to do," I said. "We end this. Tonight."
