Chapter 9
The next week was another blur.
Ambulances.
Police.
SWAT.
FBI.
CIA.
Everyone wanted a piece of the story.
The infamous Marco Moretti, dead in a horse show parking lot.
Killed by a suburban mom with a pistol.
The press had a field day.
Lily was in the hospital for five days.
The bullet had broken her humerus.
Nicked an artery.
She'd lost a lot of blood.
But she was young.
Strong.
She healed fast.
The doctors said she'd make a full recovery.
She'd even be able to ride again.
In six months.
Daniel was in the hospital too.
The bullet in his leg had missed the bone, but it had done a lot of muscle damage.
He was on crutches for two weeks.
He hated every second of it.
Said he felt useless.
But he was at Lily's bedside every minute.
Holding her hand.
Telling her stories.
Making her laugh.
The FBI investigated the shooting.
Ruled it justified.
Clear self-defense.
Marco was on the FBI's top ten most wanted list.
He'd just shot a little girl.
Set a truck on fire with three people inside.
Shot Daniel.
No one was going to charge me with anything.
In fact, half the agents who came to interview me shook my hand.
Said I'd done the world a favor.
The Moretti organization was finished.
Every last member.
Dead or in prison.
The threat was gone.
Really gone.
We were finally safe.
Or so I thought.
We were sitting in the living room of the country house, two weeks after we'd all gotten out of the hospital, when Rita showed up.
She had a stack of papers in her hand.
A grim look on her face.
I knew that look.
Nothing good ever came after that look.
"What now?" I said. Sinking into the couch. "Don't tell me there's another Moretti brother hiding in a cave somewhere."
"Better and worse," Rita said. She sat down across from us. Laid the papers on the coffee table. "The fertility clinic lawsuit. We won. Big. The judge awarded you four hundred and twenty million dollars in compensatory and punitive damages. It's the largest award of its kind in Texas history. The clinic is bankrupt. The doctors are all in prison. It's over. You won."
I stared at her.
Four hundred and twenty million dollars.
I couldn't even wrap my head around that number.
"But?" Daniel said. He was sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on a pillow. "There's a but, isn't there? I know that face, Rita. Spit it out."
Rita sighed.
"But Jack Walker is up for parole," she said.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Jack.
I'd almost forgotten he existed.
Almost.
"Parole?" I said. "He's only been in eight months! He was sentenced to forty years! For manslaughter! For fraud! For kidnapping! How is he even eligible for parole?"
"His new lawyer found a technicality," Rita said. "The search warrant Gerald used to get Jack's financial records? It was signed by a judge who was later convicted of taking bribes. All the evidence from that warrant is now inadmissible. Without it? The fraud case falls apart. The money laundering case falls apart. The DA offered him a deal. Time served on the kidnapping and child endangerment, plus three years on the reduced manslaughter charges. With good behavior? He'll be out in six months."
"No," Daniel said. Standing up. Angry. "No way. He's not getting out. Not after everything he did. Not after he took those kids to the lake house. Not after all those people died because of him."
"I'm sorry," Rita said. "There's nothing we can do. The judge already signed off. It's done. Jack Walker is a free man in six months. And there's something else."
She pushed one of the papers across the table.
"He's filed a civil suit. Against you. Against Daniel. Against the foundation. He's claiming that you deliberately destroyed his medical career out of spite. That you forged the evidence. That you manipulated the paternity tests to take his children away from him. He's suing for two hundred million dollars. And full custody of Lily and Noah."
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
It was either laugh or scream.
"He's insane," I said. "He's not their father. He has no rights. The judge already said—"
"Jack is claiming the paternity tests were faked," Rita said. "He says you bribed the labs. That you used Daniel's DNA on purpose to make it look like he wasn't the father, so you could cut him out of the kids' lives and keep all the money for yourself. He's got a so-called expert witness who's willing to testify that the tests were contaminated. And with the original warrant thrown out, a lot of the evidence against Jack is gone. He's going to paint himself as the victim here, Megan. A loving husband and father whose bitter, greedy ex-wife destroyed his life because he wanted a divorce. And with four hundred and twenty million dollars suddenly in your bank account? A jury might just believe him."
Daniel slammed his fist on the table.
"I'll kill him before I let him take those kids," he said.
"No you won't," Rita said sharply. "Because if you do, you'll go to prison for the rest of your life. And then who will raise them? Jack? Think, Daniel. Use your head. We have to fight this the right way. In court. With evidence. With witnesses. We destroy Jack's character. We show the jury exactly who he is. What he's done. We make sure no jury in the world would ever give him custody of a goldfish, let alone two innocent children."
She looked at me.
"It's going to be ugly, Megan. The dirtiest trial you can imagine. Jack's lawyer is going to drag every skeleton out of your closet. Your brother's fake death. The fertility fraud. Marco Moretti. The shooting. Everything. They're going to make you look like a liar. A killer. An unfit mother. Can you handle that? In front of the whole world? With the kids watching?"
I looked at Daniel.
At Gerald.
At Marcus, who was standing in the doorway.
I thought of Lily.
Of Noah.
Of everything we'd been through.
Everything we'd survived.
I thought of Jack.
Getting out of prison.
Thinking he could just walk back into our lives.
Take what he wanted.
Like he always had.
I stood up.
Straightened my shoulders.
"Let him try," I said. "I've spent the last year fighting for my kids. Against Jack. Against the Morettis. Against fertility clinics and corrupt judges and terrorists. I'm not going to stop now. Not when we're so close to being happy. He wants a war? I'll give him a war. And I promise you this. When it's over? Jack Walker will wish he'd died in that prison. Because I am going to destroy him. Completely. Utterly. And there won't be a single piece left for anyone to pick up."
The trial started six months later.
Jack was released from prison two weeks before jury selection.
He showed up to court every day.
Wearing a cheap suit.
His hair cut short.
Looking humble.
Looking sorry.
Playing the part of the wronged husband perfectly.
His lawyer was good.
One of the best in the state.
Expensive.
The Moretti money had bought him that, even after everything was frozen.
The trial was everything Rita had promised.
Ugly.
Brutal.
Personal.
Jack's lawyer dragged every secret out into the open.
Daniel's fake death.
My shooting of Marco.
The fertility fraud.
The four hundred million dollars.
He painted me as a cold, calculating, violent woman who had destroyed her husband's life for money and revenge.
Who had brainwashed her own children against their loving father.
Who was so unstable she'd shot a man in cold blood in a parking lot.
Who was being raised by a father who was a trained killer with ten years of black ops experience and a body count in the double digits.
It was effective.
I saw the jury watching me.
Judging me.
Whispering to each other.
Half of them looked at me like I was a monster.
The other half looked at Jack like he was a lost puppy.
Our side fought back.
Hard.
Rita called witness after witness.
The families of Jack's dead patients.
Chloe, telling the jury everything Jack had done.
Everything Carol and Ashley had done.
The doctors from the hospital, testifying about the falsified records.
The drunk driving.
The stealing.
The lies.
The lake house kidnapping.
We played the 911 calls.
The police reports.
The photos of Lily and Noah, scared and crying in the back of that car.
It was effective too.
But it was a toss-up.
Day after day.
Witness after witness.
I left the courthouse every night exhausted.
Sick to my stomach.
Wondering if I was going to lose my children after all.
The jury deliberated for three days.
The longest three days of my life.
We waited in the courtroom.
Jack sat at his table.
Staring at me.
Smiling.
Like he already knew he'd won.
Daniel held my hand.
Squeezed tight.
"It's going to be okay," he whispered. "Whatever happens. We'll be okay. We'll appeal. We'll fight forever. We'll never stop."
The bailiff came in.
"All rise."
We stood.
The jury filed in.
No one would look at me.
My heart sank.
The judge looked at the foreman.
"Have you reached a verdict?"
The foreman stood up.
Held a piece of paper in his hand.
"We have, Your Honor."
"Read it."
The foreman looked at Jack.
Then at me.
"On the count of wrongful termination of employment... we the jury find in favor of the defendant, Megan Walker."
Jack's smile faltered.
"On the count of intentional infliction of emotional distress... we the jury find in favor of the defendant, Megan Walker."
The smile was gone.
"On the count of fraud and misrepresentation regarding paternity... we the jury find in favor of the defendant, Megan Walker."
Jack stood up.
His face was red.
Angry.
His lawyer pulled him back down.
"On the request for full custody of the minor children, Lily Walker and Noah Walker... we the jury find that the plaintiff, Jack Harrison Walker, has no legal or biological right to said children. Full permanent sole custody is awarded to the defendant, Megan Carter, with no visitation rights granted to the plaintiff. The plaintiff is ordered to pay all court costs and legal fees of the defendant in the amount of three point two million dollars. Furthermore, the plaintiff is hereby ordered to permanently cease and desist all contact with the minor children and their mother, and is forbidden from coming within five hundred feet of their home, school, or any other location they may frequent for the rest of his natural life."
The room erupted.
I collapsed into Daniel's arms.
Crying.
Laughing.
Shaking.
It was over.
Really over.
Jack was gone.
Forever.
He stormed out of the courtroom.
His lawyer chasing after him.
I never saw him again.
Two weeks later, we got word he'd left the country.
Moved to a small island in the Caribbean with no extradition treaty with the United States.
He was gone.
But he was still alive.
And a small part of me knew.
Someday.
Somehow.
We'd see him again.
May you like
But for now?
We were free.
