Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 148

Judge Kennedy purses her lips. “And yet Ms. Carson is the one who has been meeting their needs consistently for the past three years.”

“Thank you!” Every single pair of eyes in the courtroom turns to me. I blush scarlet. “Sorry,” I murmur. “That was supposed to be an inside thought.”

The judge doesn’t crack a smile but she doesn’t admonish me, either. Her gaze veers back to my parents and their lawyer. “It’s not in the best interests of those children to be removed from a familiar environment and placed in your care, even if you are their grandparents.”

Beatrice jerks up to her feet again. “They’re not even in school! She pulled them out months ago. I checked with their principal!” Her lawyer grabs her arm and whispers something in her ear but Beatrice just shakes her off. “I want what’s best for my grandchildren and I’m terrified that my wayward, irresponsible daughter will do more damage of an unfixable variety if they’re left with her in the long run.”

The judge twists her dark gaze back to me. “Ms. Carson, am I to understand that you pulled those children out of their school without finding an alternate option for them?”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Isabel gets to her feet before I can fumble for some half-assed explanation. “Of course not, your honor. My client has indeed secured an alternate option for the children.”

Ruslan pulls out a sheaf of papers and hands them to Isabel, who walks them over to the judge. I sidle a little closer to Ruslan. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve enrolled the kids at Horace Mann.”

My skin tingles. Everyone in the city has heard of Horace Mann. It’s where pop stars and presidents send their kids. The tuition for one semester alone is over thirty thousand dollars. But, if I’m being honest, I’m less annoyed about that and more annoyed about the fact that this is the first I’m hearing of any of this.

He’s gonna get an earful about this later.

“Well… everything seems to be in order,” Judge Kennedy says, turning over the papers to read through everything. “It seems your daughter hasn’t neglected the children’s education at all, Mrs. Carson.”

My mother is gawking at Ruslan and I now with a disbelieving expression. “B-but… she can only enroll them there because of him.”

Judge Kennedy sighs and turns to Ruslan. “And who are you, Mr…?”

“Oryolov, your honor. Ruslan Oryolov.” He’s the only one who doesn’t look on edge right now.

“And who are you to these children?”

“I’m Ms. Carson’s partner.” He crosses his hands in front of his belt. “And I’m fully committed to helping her raise those three children. I already think of them as my own.”

My jaw flops open again, but for a very different reason this time. Okay, so it’s a little harder to be pissed at him about the whole school enrollment thing. Sue me.

The judge fixes him with her eagle eyed gaze. “Taking on three children is no easy feat, Mr. Oryolov.”

Ruslan doesn’t hesitate. “I’m well aware, your honor. It’s a great responsibility, but it’s also a rewarding one. And I’m more than up for the challenge.”

Judge Kennedy nods. “Then there’s nothing further to discuss. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, your petition for custody has been denied. Legal and physical custody of the minor children—Joshua, Reagan, and Caroline Ziegler—will remain with their aunt.”

She bangs the gavel—and just like that, I can breathe again.

36

EMMA

“Is this real?”

Isabel gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s real. Those papers that Ben signed are ironclad. I made sure of it.”

Ruslan has his hand on the small of my back but his eyes are trained on the other side of the courtroom where my parents are standing with their lawyer. It looks like there’s one hell of a discussion going. All furtive whispers and angry half-glances in our direction.

My first instinct is relief. Then a petty sense of satisfaction. I won. I fucking won. I can’t be that bad of a guardian if a judge has decided that it’s in the children’s best interests to stay with me.

Take that, Mom and Dad.

Of course, on the heels of that less-than-gracious thought is guilt. They are still my parents and they’re the only family I have left.

“Emma.” My gaze veers to Ruslan, who’s looking at me with a warning in his eyes. “There’s no point.”

I’m not sure how to take that. One, because how did he know what I was thinking? And two: surely there’s something there that can be salvaged? Not everything can be so easily written-off, right?

“They’re still my parents.”

“Parents or not, they treat you like shit,” Ruslan reminds me in a cold voice. “And you deserve better than that.”

I’ve made up my mind on one thing, at least: I’m just gonna let the whole he-enrolled-the-kids-in-a-fancy-schmancy-school-without-consulting-me-first thing go. The man’s more than made up for it today by helping me keep custody of the kids. For being here with me through it all.

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

I thank Isabel at the exit of the courthouse, but I’ve got one eye on my parents who are now standing at the bottom of the stairs. Leaving Ruslan with Isabel for a moment, I walk down the steps towards them.

Mom spots me first. Her jaw clenches fiercely and she nudges my father so hard that he nearly tumbles over. “Emma,” Beatrice greets in a frigid voice that I remember well from my adolescent years. Sienna used to do an unbelievable impression of it. “Come over to gloat, have you?”

For God’s sake, why do they have to make everything so hard?

“Of course not,” I reply as levelly as I can. “I just came to say that I’m sorry that things ended this way. I’m sorry they got to this point at all.”

My father narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t think we don’t know exactly why the judge sided with you.”

I breathe. In and out, in and out. Don’t get into a whole thing with them. Don’t stoop to their level. “Listen, I’m not here to discuss the outcome. I’m just here to say that, if you ever want to see the kids, you’re welcome to. You are their grandparents and they’ve lost enough family members as it is.”

Beatrice’s eyes bug out and the vein in her forehead pops. I’m afraid that’s a feature that I inherited. Always hated that vein.

“Oh, so you’re here to offer us pity visits? Supervised access to our own grandchildren?”

I sigh. “If you two have an agenda where those kids are concerned, then I oppose it. But if you just want to see them, spend some quality time with them… that I can get behind.”

“We don’t need any favors from you,” Barrett snarls at me.