Legally Not Yours

The Awakening

POV: Jared

Reed didn’t even bother with a greeting. He just said, “We’ve got her.”

I stood in the corner of my office, staring at the skyline, gripping the phone harder than necessary.

“Go on,” I said. He launched into the list.

Fake IDs. Hidden accounts. Forged signatures on financial documents and power-of-attorney transfers. Blackmail payments. Property fraud.

Tampering with legal contracts from two firms ago. Eva Rosewood wasn’t just manipulative, she was criminally strategic.

“She’s a walking indictment,” Reed said.

“I want everything printed,” I told him. “Binders. Copies. I want a set in my safe, one in your hands, and one delivered to our legal liaison by the end of day.”

“She won’t talk her way out of this,” he promised. “We’ll make sure she never sees the outside of a country club again.”

“Good.” I hung up.

And for the first time in a long time, I exhaled like I meant it.

I got back to the apartment a little after midnight. The lights were low, city glow slipping through the blinds, casting long shadows across the living room. And there she was.

Leah was asleep on the couch. Her legs were curled up under her, one arm draped over her face, the other dangling down beside a pile of notes, handwritten, half-crumpled, and scattered across the hardwood like fallen leaves.

I stepped in quietly, careful not to wake her.

She looked peaceful in a way I rarely saw. Like she wasn’t at war with herself. Like, for once, she believed she was safe. I gathered the notes into a loose pile, placing them on the table.

Then I saw it. A single page, torn at the edges, her handwriting less structured than usual.

I will help Jared. No matter what happens I’m here for him.

He protected me so now it’s my turn. He’s done a lot for me, it’s time for me to return the favor. I care for him.

I am not weak. I’m tired. But I’m not weak. Problems that came are meant to be solved. I have Jared now. He’s going to help me and get through all of it together, right?

I like him, right? I mean… I like him like… that kinda of like.

Do I like him or I love him? I think I love him, right? Maybe?

Jared’s cute when he smiles, he’s sexy when he’s bossy. I love that side of him.

Also sometimes he’s rough, distant, and sometimes I want to punch his perfect face, but… He makes me feel like I can survive anything. Like the world is actually not scary.

Do I deserve him?

…Do I want to?

I didn’t realize I was smiling until I felt it in my cheeks. I looked down at her, heart full and heavy. Then I leaned in, brushed her hair back, and kissed her forehead.

“You’re not alone, Leah.” I whispered.

Not anymore.

The next morning, the call came at 7:42 a.m. Reed again. But his voice was different this time, lighter. “Your father’s awake.”

I sat up straighter. “What?”

“St. Lucia called the agency. One of our flags went off. He woke up around four this morning. Alert. Cognitively fine.”

I was already on my feet, pulling on my shirt.

“And guess what?” Reed added with a laugh. “Eva told the hospital not to notify you. She said she was his wife.”

I stopped mid-button. “His what?”

“She filed hospital documents claiming spousal authority. Legal loophole. But it didn’t stick. We flagged it and corrected the records before it caused damage.”

“She’s pathetic,” I muttered.

“She’s also finished,” he replied.

By 9 a.m., I was sitting beside Jeff Connors for the first time in weeks. He looked thinner, paler, but his eyes were sharp, and when he saw me, he didn’t hesitate.

“You cut your hair,” he said.

I blinked. “That’s the first thing you say to your son after a coma?”

“You look less like me. That’s good,” he rasped with a smirk. I swallowed a laugh.

“You remember what happened?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “Some. Enough. The crash. Eva. Carlson. Leah.”

I leaned back. “You know we’ve been digging?”

“Of course. You didn’t think I’d trust Carlson to clean up this mess, did you?” I didn’t reply. “Leah’s the best choice we ever made,” he added.

I nodded. “She’s… she’s everything.”

Jeff studied me for a moment. “And what are you going to do about Carlson?”

“Expose him. Rip him off the throne. Let the board finish the rest.” Jeff nodded slowly. Then his eyes darkened with something quieter.

“Let me.”

I frowned. “You?”

“I have my own idea,” he said, lips twitching. “He doesn’t need humiliation. He needs clarity. I’ll handle him.”

“How?”

Father’s smile was tired but sharp. “I’m sending him to therapy, he’s going to get the help he needs and get some test done.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“He needs it. Not just for image. For survival.”

I leaned forward. “You think he’ll go?”

“He’ll go,” Jeff said. “Because if he doesn’t, he’ll lose the only thing he thinks he still has left.”

“What’s that?”

“His name.”