Chapter 2 - The Paper Trail
The stadium erupted into cheers as the opening kickoff sent the ball flying down the pitch, but I couldn't hear any of it.
The roaring crowd sounded like it was underwater.
I stared down at the legal document sitting on my lap, the red ink of a federal court seal glaring back at me.
"This is a bluff," I said, my voice shaking as I shoved the paper back toward David.
"My lawyer spent eleven months securing those rights after child services deemed you unfit."
David’s lawyer smoothly pushed the paper back into my hands.
"Your lawyer, Patricia, failed to run a proper publication notice in my new state of residence," the lawyer explained coldly.
"Legally, David’s parental rights were never formally terminated, which means you have been harboring a runaway minor."
I felt the blood drain entirely from my face.
"You vanished," I growled at David, turning around to face him.
"You left a suicide note that said you weren't built for this, and you left a four-year-old child in an empty house."
David sighed dramatically, brushing a speck of dust off his tailored lapel.
"I had a nervous breakdown, Leo, which is a medically recognized condition."
"I spent the last decade building a multi-million-dollar real estate empire so I could give my son the life he deserves."
"He told me on the phone last night that you can't even afford his college tuition."
The words hit me like a physical punch to the gut.
It was true; my mechanic’s salary barely covered our rent and groceries, let alone a university education.
"Money doesn't make you a father," I fired back, blinking away the stinging tears in my eyes.
"No, but it buys a lot of leverage," David whispered, leaning closer.
"I have two Division I scouts sitting in the VIP box right now, waiting for my signal."
"If Mason comes with me willingly, he gets a full ride to any school he wants, plus a six-figure brand deal I already negotiated."
"If you fight me on this, my lawyer will tie you up in court until Mason is aged out of the recruitment window."
I looked down at the field, watching Mason sprint gracefully past a defender.
He was playing his heart out, entirely unaware that his future was being bought and sold in the bleachers.
"I won't let you ruin his life again," I swore quietly.
David pulled out a sleek smartphone and tapped the screen twice.
"I'm not ruining it, Leo, I'm upgrading it," David said with a smirk.
"Look at the sidelines."
I turned my attention back to the pitch, my stomach twisting in a knot.
The head coach was walking toward the referee, holding up a substitution board just ten minutes into the first half.
The glowing red number on the board was 10.
It was Mason’s jersey number.
"What did you do?" I gasped, watching Mason stop dead in his tracks on the field.
May you like
David leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs comfortably.
"I made a generous donation to the athletic department this morning, and the coach agreed that my son needs to stay healthy for his Chicago flight."
